#and so protesting against him and going on strike and trying to join a union secretly run by the Mandarin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

besanii · 4 years ago

Note

19 or 20 from the kisses list for sm or dh??🥰

20. top of head kisses

Double Happiness At Your Door

Extra 16: 天河 (Heavenly River) | master post on sidebar

[directly follows #07]

“Wait, wait, Lan Zhan, where are we going?” Wei Wuxian cries, clutching onto the front of Lan Wangji’s robes as he takes off into the air, leaving the fairy maidens staring, wide-eyed, after them. “Lan Zhan, put me down at once!”

But his protestations are thoroughly ignored. Not only are they ignored, Lan Wangji holds him even closer, if that was even possible, his attention focused on…wherever they were going. He looks down. They’re so high up in the air he can’t even see the palace grounds anymore, only the layers upon layers of fluffy white clouds like soft carpet beneath their feet. Even if he were to forcibly break free of Lan Wangji’s arms and leap down and away, he wouldn’t have the faintest clue where they were right now, let alone how to get home. So he grumbles and resigns himself to being lugged around at Lan Wangji’s whim.

How does Lan Wangji even know where to go when everything around them looks the same?

They fly for a good part of a shichen before they arrive at their destination, which is saying a lot considering they—as High Immortals—are able to cover thousands of li worth of distance in an instant. Wei Wuxian has long since dozed off against Lan Wangji’s shoulder, lulled by the cool breeze in his hair and the steady heartbeat beneath his ear, and only stirs when Lan Wangji sets him down carefully on the floor.

“Hmm?” he says groggily, rubbing his eyes. “We’re here?”

“Yes, we are.” A large hand comes down on the top of his head. “You can sleep a little longer if you wish.”

That spurs Wei Wuxian to wake, shaking himself off—and the hand on his head with it—and stretching his tired limbs with a yawn. He’s not going to sleep instead of finding out where Lan Wangji has decided to kidnap him! Knowing Lan Wangji, it’s either somewhere incredibly fun and hard to get to—like Fan Yin Valley—or somewhere incredibly boring, like the library.

“If you’ve taken me to the library, I’m disowning you,” he warns, brushing past Lan Wangji to get a good look at their surroundings. “I was meant to have lunch with Nie-xiong—”

The words die on his lips as he takes in the sight before them.

They’re standing in the shade of a huge tree, its wide-reaching branches stretching over their heads and thick with foliage despite the darkness. Although, dark isn’t quite the word he would use to describe the environment around them—no, there is definitely light, so much of it, from the millions of tiny pinpricks dotting the sky, swirling around their feet, flowing in an endless river as far as the eye can see.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispers, his heart in his throat. “It’s—”

“The Heavenly River,” Lan Wangji says. His voice is low and close to his ear. Wei Wuxian inhales sharply.

“The Heavenly—we’re not—isn’t this restricted territory?” he asks, worried. “We’re not going to get in trouble by being here are we?”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve never known that to stop you before,” he says. “Come on.”

Without waiting for a response, he takes Wei Wuxian’s hand and leads him towards the river in three long strides, coming to a stop at the very edge where the river laps gently at the bank. Wei Wuxian is too stunned to protest, even when Lan Wangji turns to face him and holds up the small paper lotus with an expectant look on his face.

“Well?” he asks, when Wei Wuxian just stands there gaping at him. “Are you not going to place it in the river and see if it floats all the way to the end?”

“What?” Wei Wuxian stares at the river, following its path across the sky. “I don’t think it counts if you do it here…”

“Why not?” Lan Wangji also turns to the river, undeterred. “The type of river was not specified. A river is a river, regardless of what runs through it.”

Well, okay, he has a point. This is the Heavenly River, if this doesn’t count as a river, then what would?

And it really is a beautiful place, one of the most sacred places in all the realms—not to mention the most romantic. There isn’t a couple out there that wouldn’t want to see the Heavenly River with their own eyes, and make a wish at the very meeting place of the Cowherd and Weaver for a blessed, happy union. The only problem is that he and Lan Wangji aren’t a real couple, no matter what they’ve led everyone else to believe.

He looks at the little lotus blossom resting in the centre of Lan Wangji’s palm and an idea strikes him. The practice didn’t specify the type of river—or that the wisher had to already be in a relationship with the person whose name is written at the heart of the flower. Cheered by this thought, he crouches down by the river’s edge.

“Alright then, let’s do it,” he says, reaching up and gesturing for Lan Wangji to join him without looking over his shoulder. “Come on, Lan Zhan.”

There’s a rustle of robes as Lan Wangji crouches down beside him, their shoulders bumping and their sides pressed together. The now-familiar heat rises in the back of his neck and up to his ears at their proximity; he avoids his gaze as he takes the flower from him, cupping it carefully in both hands to avoid crushing it. He lowers it gently into the river, feeling a tingle of energy dancing up his arms when his hands dip below the surface, before he clasps his hands in front of his chest and closes his eyes.

I wish for Lan Zhan to find happiness with the person he loves, he says silently. He tries not to think too hard about the implication if it does come true.

That done, he opens his eyes and breaks out into a satisfied smile.

“That was fun!” he says brightly, turning to look at Lan Wangji. “Did you make a—”

The rest of his words are cut off with a strangled squeak as an arm comes around his shoulders and a large hand rests on the back of his head, applying a gentle pressure until he pitches forward right into Lan Wangji’s waiting arms. And then, before he can even recover from that—both physically and mentally—he feels warm lips press against the top of his head. It’s a brief touch, lasting no more than the span of a breath, but it’s enough for his brain to grind to a complete halt, and his heart to stutter and trip over itself trying to keep beating.

And then it’s gone, and he’s staring at Lan Wangji’s broad chest, dazed and unseeing. He’s vaguely aware of Lan Wangji murmuring something to him, but he can’t seem to make out the words. Instead, he launches himself backwards and away from Lan Wangji with a squawk, falling over onto his behind in a jumble of limbs and robes, red-faced and panting. His heart is beating so fast he’s half-afraid it will explode inside his chest.

What just happened? What was that? Did Lan Zhan just—?

Lan Wangji, still crouching where he was before—because of course Wei Wuxian using him as a springboard to propel himself backward did nothing to affect his structure—watches him quietly, calmly, as if he hadn’t just—!

“Wha-what was that for?” he asks, stammering and stuttering as he struggles to get his heartbeat back under control.

All his efforts are ruined, of course, when Lan Wangji smiles in that way that makes his eyes seem to glow with warmth and fondness all at once.

“For luck,” he says.

Notes:

The Heavenly River (天河) refers to the Milky Way, and is the river that separates 牛郎 (Cowherd) and 织女 (Weaver Girl) who are only allowed to meet once a year. The Chinese Qixi/Double Seventh Festival (7th day of the 7th lunisolar month - 25 August 2020) celebrates their annual meeting on a bridge of magpies, and is considered the Chinese version of Valentine’s Day.

buy me a kofi @ ko-fi.com/besanii

#hey nonny nonny #asks #mdzs #wangxian #double happiness fic #雙喜臨門 #my writing #lan wangji #wei wuxian #dragon!lwj #fox prince!wwx #fake dating au #humour #kiss prompts #double happiness verse

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years ago

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 64

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"You owe me big," I said to Bisque. We were watching Wenge and Jasper sprint back and forth across a small courtyard behind the bar.

"I hear you, I hear you," Bisque said. "We were sort of roped into more than we could chew."

"Between the strikes and whatever those leaders want?" I asked.

"People started looking at us like we were supposed to have answers. That's how the old White Fang got started around here. Just as union leaders and such. Now that they've been discredited and with our network people were looking at us to pick up the slack."

"So you got dragged into this, you're being strong armed into doing this operation before y'all are ready."

"By those old miner leaders. Dyne and Barret. Dyne's been around for a long ass time. Barret's newer but they're both close. Barret is backing Dyne. Which means we need to play ball too."

"Which is why you owe me. Big time. I want information. As soon as you have it. I have a list of names I'll want you to keep an ear to the ground about and if you want me to kill Taurus it'll cost you extra," I informed him. Never let it be said I was purely altruistic. I saw my edge over him and I was taking it.

He slapped a hand over his face. "No, no. Don't kill him. At least not yet if you can help it. And I'll take your list of names."

"That's just the start. I don't want Lien. I'll want any other information that you can give me when and if I ask for it. A blank check." I leaned against the wall of the bar beside Neo with my arms crossed.

"Fine. Fair enough." He rubbed his forehead hard. "We do owe you. Thanks Cloud."

"And you'll want to upgrade the fucking squirt gun you've got."

"What's wrong with my pistol?" He asked.

"It's a fucking .22."

"Hey now. It's a .30."

"Still. Those sometimes don't stop regular people. You'll want something with more kick to it. I can pick up something better from Aurum. Lasers, higher caliber, or even something magnetic accelerated so it still has as much kinetic energy as a .44 or .45. Hell, you should probably talk .50 cal if you want to stop anybody with aura and training."

"So I should go big or go home?" He asked.

"More like go big or die, bro," I said. "I knew this fifteen year old who used a .50 caliber sniper rifle. If you're really attached to something small I could get you a submachine gun."

"I'll think about it," he said.

"Think fast," I shot back.

We watched Jasper and Wenge pant and sprint in their suicides for a hard moment.

"You going to -" I was interrupted by the jingle of bells as the bar's door opened.

I was going to ask if he was going to join Jasper and Wenge who were working hard. Avalanche all had aura but having aura didn't make you good, I'd been living proof of that. Even having a semblance didn't make you good. Only training or else real combat could help with that.

I peaked around the corner and through a screen door. It was Robyn Hill in the bar. I recognized her face from the posters of her all over both towns. She had pale hair (not as snow white as Weiss's) and purple eyes, not quite as vibrant as Yangs, but she was still beautiful. Aura-hunter-beautiful.

"Bar's closed," Bisque told her. I heard through the back door entrance and window.

"Oh don't be like that. I just want to talk about the General's project."

"Not this time. You shot us down, remember. Or your agent did, Fiona was it," Bisque returned. He didn't look amused.

"I have some Lien I could offer you." Robyn said and she leaned against the counter. Her face on one palm. "Sorry we weren't about the destruction of Schnee property. But look where that got you."

"The value of money is plummeting for me recently," Bisque said dryly.

I snorted. Money only talked so loudly to hunters like Neo and I. I was willing to bet she had more millions stashed away than the ones we took from Don Corneo. But that wasn't how you kept Neo entertained. Well, drugs and alcohol helped but what she really wanted was somebody to fuck with. Even if that somebody was only me and it had to do with a night I'd gotten black-out drunk on. She was milking that for all it was worth.

"How much will that information cost me?" Hill asked. "What can I do to make you call off these strikes? Come on, work with me here. I'm listening now."

"A few hundred thousand. And we're not in charge of the strikes."

She winced at the price but sighed in a way that didn't make it seem undoable. "I'll see about getting you your money. And that's not the way I hear it. These are your strikes now."

"They're not. You're looking for Dyne or Barret."

"Dyne is unreconcilable. He's on the warpath. He wants the strikes to never end just so long as Schnee suffers. He's unreachable. And Barret is angry. He'll stay that way for the foreseeable future. You're not, work with me here," she said again. "What will it cost? I'm willing to make all kinds of campaign promises. I'll keep them too. I'm a woman of my word. You want dust lung laws? I want them too. Why don't we start negotiating there? The strikes have to end somewhere."

"We want increased safety standards. And we want an increase in minimum wage. Wages haven't kept up with inflation so the current wage is unlivable."

"Done. Please. I can't get elected under this kind of unrest. Just join my voting block, getting your people to join my block will solve both of our problems."

"I'm not sure I can do that. There's more on the way."

"What else is on the way?"

"I can't talk to you about it but we have another operation."

"Another? Like the one that kicked off these protests? Put it off." She sounded desperate. "Cancel it."

"Can't do that. Some old guard in the White Fang are insisting upon it and in the miners guild, too. They're putting pressure on me and Avalanche." Bisque crossed his arms and replied coldly.

"Who?" She demanded. "I'll convince them otherwise."

"You can't. It's Dyne and Adam Taurus."

"Taurus? And Dyne, both? You have to do this?"

"Or else I'm afraid that Avalanche will lose control over the strikes completely."

"So? Let it happen. You can't tell me you meant for things to go this far. Fiona said it was mostly symbolic."

"We'd never be a player in the unions ever again if we stood by the wayside now. We have to be willing to act as much or more than anyone and everyone else."

"Damn it. When's the operation? Will you tell me that at least?" She pleaded.

"Tomorrow night. The others want to put a fire under Jacques Schnee and prevent him from getting comfortable. They want to force him to act and capitulate to the strikes. We had this operation in mind before and one thing led to another once the others found out about it."

"I'll get your money wired to you. Tell me about the General's project with Amity." She leaned forward towards him. She was anxious to hear about it.

I watched her stick out a hand. Bisque took it. A dull lilac hue took over both their hands all the way up to the elbow. I could feel the low hum of aura from where I watched through the screen window. She was doing something .

"The General is turning the colosseum into a satellite. Getting communication back up and running between the kingdoms. It's his current number one priority."

She withdrew. "That's it? That's why he's diverting supplies from Mantle? At least as far as you know, I suppose."

"The intel is good. We had people who worked on the project come to us," Bisque said. "Cetra who were or are involved in the construction joined our union network. They reported it to us."

"That's… that's good news I suppose. But the rest you have got to find a way to settle down the protests and get them to vote for me. I'm willing to grant all your concessions once I become a council member. None of them are unreasonable or outside of my policies," Hill negotiated. She really wanted a bunch of politically active people on her side come election day. I could get that. Voter efficacy was low all too often, even back in Vale.

"I'll talk to people and spread the word. I only promise to try."

"And another thing, Fiona mentioned two other people. She mentioned Cloud Strife. What's his angle in all this? I know he's been involved in the drug game and a prison break," Hill wondered.

"He was after the same information you were. Fiona should have been able to tell you that," Bisque answered. "Now, if that's actually everything, you can wire the money over and get out of my bar. We're closed. No service at the moment. We've got a happy hour at seven. You could come back then."

"Well thank you anyways. And don't worry about your money. I'll leave, then."

He came out to me again through the screen door in the back of the bar.

"You shook her hand," I introduced. "Why?"

"She's got a lie detection semblance. It's touch based, Striker ranged," he informed me.

I raised an eyebrow. A politician that valued truth in their very soul. Not her heart or mind but in the core of her very being. You didn't find that on every street corner.

Well she had my vote. Not that I could vote. None of my identities were Atlas or Mantle citizens so I was pretty much in the same class as a felon. Not that I wasn't also a felon.

"You sure you should have told her so much about the operation. She could interfere," I told him. "If she does that's on you."

"I didn't tell her that much. And if she does interfere it might be for the best. I don't really want this op to happen. Maybe she'll be able to stop the operation, Avalanche won't have to back down, and nobody will get hurt."

"Yeah well I don't want to go to prison. Something to keep in mind. The law isn't exactly on our side," I muttered. "For all that we're standing here plotting this in broad daylight."

"Oh I wasn't aware. I'll try to keep that in mind." His tone was as dry as ice.

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I scoped out the ship I would be sinking with Neo. Or 'Mint' as she was in her disguise. She snuck aboard easily enough and took a photo of a map of the ship with her scroll. She sent it to me and I examined it closely.

I needed to figure out where we would set the charges so that the explosion would just sink the vessel and not destroy the harbor in a dust driven detonation.

The place had cameras for security and a handful of human and faunus guards. But for the most part the ship was ruled and watched over by robots. Robots I'd have no problem taking apart. It was the people I needed to lure out somehow so that they didn't die when the ship went down or similar.

There were lifeboats onboard but I didn't need any more blood on my hands. I was powerful enough that I suppose I could take steps to avoid death now. I didn't need to go all out against a group of aura-lacking sentries anymore.

I could bop them without killing them now. And I knew Neo was in a similar ballpark. She just usually didn't care.

I studied the map in detail. Neo turned visible again as she paced away from the large grey vessel. It had soft blue mooring lights and a big Schnee Dust Company logo on the side.

I could see men and women and machines up on the deck at their posts. They all had smooth looking assault rifles and shotguns. The kind of heavy weaponry the SDC needed to keep their high valued assets safe. I was sure they were on decent high alert now, too. I'd scraped with some of them at the mine so they knew that wasn't just an accident.

She came up behind me on my bike and wrapped her arms around me. I turned around to spot her small smirk. She was still teasing me. At least she was still doing what I told her to do in a general sense.

She pulled herself snuggly against me and pressed her face into my back. I could feel it against my skin after a layer of clothes over armor. Maybe it was just her aura I was feeling against me like the flare of a cold burning candle.

I could feel her mischievous mood. She had no one to target but me at the moment.

"Don't be a brat, Neo." She shuffled softly against me in what I realized was mute laughter.

I revved my engine and pulled away from the ship.

"I'm thinking about setting off an explosion as a distraction. To lure the people off the ship. The last thing we want is to have to kill people and stain our unblemished records."

The wind whistled through my face as I pulled the bike into traffic.

"Maybe I'll set you loose on the guards. Harass them with illusions that get them off the ship. Would that make you happy or would you rather blow something up."

She shrugged against me unhelpfully.

"Well then we will probably do a little of column A and a little of column B. How many people can you teleport at once with you, Neo."

She tapped my chest three times. That meant I could get four of us on board. More if I flew. Just five of us to cause enough of a ruckus that we drew the living guards' attention but not so much noise that we brought the entire facility down on our heads. There was a balance to play. A particular key to strike.

I needed to draw only so much attention and it had to be the kind of attention that grabbed living beings and left the machines to mostly do their work.

I recalled the robots. They were humanoid things for the most part. They were built fast and could be destroyed just as easily by hunters like us. Their weapons would only cause a problem if I gave their targeting computers time to really line up a shot and if I gave them a chance to shoot as a group.

Not allowing them to use their strength of numbers was a good call. Don't sit still enough that they got a good solution for me. It was a good start but I needed more.

There could be more menacing machines on board. Giant spider or scorpion bots or larger humanoid mechs like the Atlesian Paladins we had fought back at Beacon's fall.

I wasn't sure how much trouble those kinds of machines were going to give me given how much stronger I had become. Plus I was loaded with dust crystals and I knew how to use them.

I needed to start a fire. Something like that would draw the human crew to the lifeboats and off the ship but would leave the machines behind.

I could also use Neo's power to get a few of us on board and get the party started.

I pulled up on a gondola for vehicles and pulled out my scroll and started looking over the ships schematics. I say schematics but there was a small 'you are here' sign on it indicating it was really a map set up somewhere inside.

I wanted to set the charges near the front of the ship away from the cargo hold where all the dust was sitting around and waiting to explode.

That should stop a chain reaction of explosions depending on how big the explosives we used were. I had better make those myself.

I was already thinking through the designs I knew to cause a hole just large enough to rupture the exterior hull of the boat. Just enough to rock the ship and not blow up the entire harbor.

I swung by Aurum's club on a gondola for vehicles and picked up a .50 caliber pistol for Bisque who still hadn't made up his mind. So I made it up for him. I put the heavy boxes of ammunition behind me on the bike with the spare magazines for the weapon.

It was a good thing he and the others had yet to be in a real huntsman-class fight or they would have lost pretty badly.

The only thing to do from here was build the bombs and I could do that easily enough at my apartment. So that was my next stop.

I wired together several dust crystals, enough that I thought it would be able to blow a hole in the ship's exterior if it was set against it but not so much that it would spread through the rest of the boat's interior. I made two because I thought one was probably enough to do it so I might as well go all in.

Then I set them up to be able to blow from a remote source. In this case just my scroll. It was actually pretty easy. Not as easy as throwing them really hard but just about using two small arduinos, one a piece.

The only thing left to do was share the plan with Avalanche, the miners, and Taurus and hope that went off without a hitch before the plan even started.

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-WG

#rwby #ff7 #ffvii #cloud strife #biggs #wedge #jessie rasberry #jaune arc #neo #neapolitan #whiterose #white rose #whiteknight #white knight #lancaster #war of the roses #ruby rose x jaune arc x weiss schnee #cloud!jaune arc #sephiroth!jaune arc

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the--sad--hatter · 4 years ago

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can i see the unedited angsty version ? 😭i’m a sucker for pain. (obviously you don’t have to but like yeah)

Sorry, it took me a bit to find it, it's ancient and my laptop died three times in the process. Just be careful, yeah? This one is very ouchy! 💖💖💖

Bad Habits (The Unhappy Ending Version)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Warnings: Smut, Mental Health Issues, Unhealthy Relationships, Heavy Angst

It hurts and it stings and it burns and it breaks your heart and yet you keep doing it, not in spite of the agony it causes you but because of it. When the worlds a little too loud and being alive is a little to exhausting, when your skin starts feeling too tight and your that tight ball of pain in your chest makes it’s presence known, you run to him.

When the world is too much for him and he remembers that his own mind is his own worst enemy, when the nightmares of what his hands have done without his minds compliance haunt him, he runs to you.

Eventually, something breaks and you always end up with your bare skin pressed against his, his teeth embedded in your neck, his hands bruising your hips, his cock buried deep inside you and his eyes looking straight through you.

Sometimes it’s a pattern. He knows to expect you when you come back from your therapist, already stripped down to his boxers and waiting on the bed for your return, knowing you’re going to climb onto his lap and ride him until you can’t feel your legs anymore.

When he comes back from a mission with someone else’s blood on him you know to step into the shower after him and bend to his will, letting him use you to remind himself that he is in control.

He’ll wake up from a nightmare and won’t bother stopping to wipe the cold sweat from his skin before he makes the journey to your room, sliding beneath your sheets and hands pushing your panties aside before you’ve even fully woken from your slumber.

Because the worlds a cruel place and life is painful, there’s not a day where you don’t bear the marks of your unhealthy union with Bucky on your skin. Bruises on your thighs from his fingertips digging in when he holds your legs splayed apart and fucks the anger into you, a perfect imprint of his teeth on the back of your neck from where he bends you over and claims you in the basest most primal way. Your marks on him always fade too quickly but you’re provided with plenty of opportunities to redraw the lines down his back, your nails slicing through his skin as he brings you to the precipice of pleasure and shoves you over, drowning you in bliss and self-loathing.

It used to be so much kinder between you, before the clothes came off. He would smile at you like he smiled at everyone else, you would smile at him more than you smiled at anyone else.

THEN

You could see his figure in the doorway, shoulders hunched like he was inadvertently trying to make himself smaller.

“Can’t sleep?” You asked without really looking away from the tv screen.

“No.” He rasped.

The broken sound of his voice actually made you look up and you inhaled sharply at the sight of him. Sweat rolled in droplets down his bare chest as it rose and fell rapidly while he fought to regulate his breathing, trying to fight back some semblance of calm. Metal fingers pushed damp strands of hair out of his face, his bloodshot eyes boring into you and you knew he was having similar thoughts about you. Your own skin was clammy, your own eyes so tired and dark they looked almost bruised. In the shadowy room, in the middle of the night you were both exposed for what you were. Two very broken people. He moved slowly, like he was in pain, as he dragged his body over to the couch and slumped down beside you.

“What are we watching?” He asked.

You turned your head away from him and back to the tv.

“No idea.” You said.

He didn’t reply and you both lifelessly watched the screen, neither knowing nor caring what was on it. At some point he leant to the side and without saying a word, laid his head on your chest, stretching his legs out across the cushions. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders and he took a shuddering breath and that was that. He stayed that way for hours, until the sunlight started to intrude on the almost peace you were sharing.

“I’m going to go to bed.” He announced, standing up lithely.

You just nodded, eyes still focused on the screen. He looked down at you for a moment, expressionless.

“Come with me.” He said.

It was worded like a question but sounded more like an order.

“Why Bucky? Why would I do that?”

“Don’t you want to feel something? Fucking anything? I do, and… and I wanna feel it with you.” He asked with a bitter, humourless laugh.

When you didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him he walked away.

You did want to feel something, something other than the cold numbness that came after the dark soul crushing pain. Your mind could be cruel, pushing anger and depression onto you for so long but eventually something inside you would snap and you’d stop feeling altogether. You didn’t want to be numb anymore.

With every step towards his room there was a voice in the farthest regions of your mind screaming at you to stop, turn around before it was too late but you ignored it. The awful truth was that when you could feel, when you weren’t cold inside, you were in love with Bucky. Even now when you were lost, he meant more to you than anything and you would follow him into hell itself if he asked you.

So you knocked on his door and into your own personal hell you went.

NOW

You had tasted every inch of Bucky’s skin except his lips. His hands had picked you up and pinned you down, his fingers had been wrapped in your hair or pushed deep inside your pussy but he had never held your hand. Your arms had been wrapped around him as he thrust his cock inside you but you’d never held him. Your legs had been spread for him, wrapped around his waist, slung across his shoulders, tangled with his under the sheets but he had never even walked by your side. Unless you were fighting bad guys or fucking each other, you acted like the other didn’t exist.

He was using you, taking everything you had and draining you dry but you were doing the same to him. Deep down, you both knew it wasn’t healthy, that was why you couldn’t look each other in the eye anymore. He was your crutch, your addiction and you were his outlet, his metaphorical punching bag.

For the thousandth time, you returned from an appointment to find him waiting for you.

He was sat back on your pillows like he belonged there, his hair fanned out, framing him. This might be hell for you but he sure as hell looked every inch the Angel. As soon as you stepped through the door he held his arms out, waiting for you to crawl into them like you always did. It might be wrong, this affair, but he knew you, he knew what you needed and he relished in providing it. It was more than most people could say about their partners.

Your therapist suggested that loving Bucky was safe for you, because you thought he didn’t love you back and you were afraid of having a normal, healthy relationship. She was right in a way. Love was dangerous in your eyes. Every day, all across the world, people were destroyed by it. Wars had been waged, lives ruined, people killed all because of love and how it can break us when it goes wrong. At least with Bucky, you knew the kind of pain you were setting yourself up for. And maybe the kind of pain you felt with him was addictive. Being hurt by Bucky was better than being loved by someone else. You didn’t love him because it was ‘safe’, you loved him because you didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had your heart from the second you’d met him and his hold on it was too strong to fight, even if you wanted to.

You joined him on the bad, straddling his thighs and feeling the familiar burn of lust in your veins.

“If I asked you, would you kiss me?” You said softly, too ashamed to look him in the eye.

He stilled underneath you and inhaled sharply. You chanced a look at him, your heart contracting painfully at the tick in his clenched jaw and the hard look in his eyes. There was a cold fire in his gaze, a contradiction that tore through your soul like a jagged blade, sawing and ripping, shredding, tearing it’s way through you until the sharp point landed right in the centre of your heart.

“No.” He said flatly, twisting the blade, laying waste to what mangled remnants of your heart had been left.

“Why?” You sighed desperately, pleading with him, no longer attempting to hide the depths of your wretchedness.

You had no pride left. You had seen to that the first time you had spread your legs for him and taken him inside you, let him paint your walls with his cum and pull out, leaving you lying in a damp spot in the sheets, marked by him. You had given him everything you had, never caring how he used it, knowing it was destroying you. You needed him, you needed the torture he inflicted on your body and heart, and now you needed him to strike the killing blow and drown you in your own misery.

“I’m not that cruel. Cruel enough to fuck you, but not cruel enough to pretend it’s anything more.” He whispered, his tone so soft it was almost reverent, a tone meant to carry beautiful words to a treasured lover.

“I want your cruelty.” You protested pathetically.

“You want my love, you settle for my cruelty.” He corrected, not pulling his punches.

You’d asked for this, and he was giving it to you.

“If I were a better man, I’d walk away. I’m not.” He pressed on, hands splaying themselves across your thighs, fingertips digging into you, pulling you into his body until you could feel his hardness pressed against your cunt, even through the layers of clothes. “You love me, and that’s why I need you, because you love me enough to let me break you.

His manhandling of you was a clear message. He was still going to take you, he was still going to take and take, drink you down, drink you dry, until you had nothing left to give, until you were nothing.

And you were going to let him. Because you loved him enough to let him break you.

#unholyjs #Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #The Winter Soldier #Bucky #Bucky fic #The Winter Soldier x Reader

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newstfionline · 4 years ago

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Sunday, March 28, 2021

Alabama, Georgia pick up the pieces after deadly tornadoes (AP) Chainsaws buzzed through fallen trees, stunned residents dug in the rubble that had been their homes, and neighbors rushed in to help on Friday after multiple tornadoes ripped a path of devastation across the Deep South. At least five people were killed. As many as 10 tornadoes—an estimated eight in Alabama and two in Georgia—carved a tremendous path of devastation on Thursday, uprooting 100-year-old trees, stripping roofs from houses, seriously damaging schools and businesses, and scattering treasured family possessions far and wide. Charlene Watson’s apartment building was ripped apart by the tornado. She awoke to sirens and moved as quickly as she could to the basement of her building before the twister tore the roof off her building. “Just be thankful for everything you’ve got, because you are not promised the next day. Nothing is,” Watson said, holding back tears.

Biden’s inner circle maintains close ties to vaccine makers, disclosures reveal (The Intercept) In the coming months, Linda Thomas-Greenfield, President Joe Biden’s ambassador to the United Nations, will hear from a growing chorus of developing nations about the foundering efforts to distribute the coronavirus vaccine globally. The nations, many of which have not even begun vaccinating their populations, are demanding that the U.S. support proposals to temporarily waive certain patent and intellectual property rights so that generic coronavirus vaccines can be produced. The proposals have been fiercely opposed by American drugmakers, including Pfizer, a pharmaceutical giant that Thomas-Greenfield’s former consulting firm has recently counted as a client. Thomas-Greenfield and her number two, Jeffrey DeLaurentis, previously worked for the Albright Stonebridge Group, or ASG, a consulting firm founded by former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright. The firm, which represents Pfizer, specializes in helping large corporations understand and influence international trade policy, including on intellectual property. Many leading figures in Biden’s administration, including key White House advisers, State Department leaders, and health care officials have financial stake in or professional ties to vaccine manufacturers, which are now lobbying to prevent policies that would cut into future profits over the vaccine.

Children Trapped by Colombia’s War, Five Years After Peace Deal (NYT) At 13, she left home to join the guerrillas. Now, at 15, Yeimi Sofía Vega lay in a coffin, killed during a military operation ordered by her government. Nearly five years after Colombia signed a historic peace accord with its largest rebel group, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, the country’s internal war is far from over. Remote towns like Puerto Cachicamo have yet to see the schools, clinics and jobs the government promised in the agreement. Thousands of dissident FARC combatants have returned to battle, or never laid down their arms, and are fighting rivals for control of illicit markets. Mass killings and forced displacement are again regular occurrences. And young people—trapped between an often absent state, the aggressive recruitment of armed groups and the firepower of the military—are once again the conflict’s most vulnerable targets. That was evident this month, when the government bombed a rebel camp in an effort to take out a high-profile dissident FARC leader known by the alias Gentil Duarte. The camp turned out to be full of young people who had been recruited by the group—and the operation killed at least two minors, including Yeimi Sofía.

Why Uruguay’s Schoolchildren Are Doing So Well in the Pandemic (Der Spiegel) Two weeks after Amelia’s first day of school last March, she was suddenly unable to go anymore. Her school had been shut down because of the coronavirus pandemic. But for the first grader from Uruguay, it wasn’t such a big deal. She learned the alphabet by way of digital tutorials, and she had so much fun with the digital math lessons that she did additional exercises. There were video conferences three times a week, so she could get to know her teacher and classmates better. And under the leadership of her physical education teacher, Amelia, 7, did gymnastics exercises in her living room. Amelia, though, is not some well-off pupil at a private school. She goes to a public school in Uruguay’s capital of Montevideo. And like all of the other schoolchildren in the small country sandwiched between Argentina and Brazil, she received her tablet computer from the state. Uruguay has been investing in digital education for years in addition to making it accessible to everyone. The country’s education system was better prepared for the pandemic than most of the other countries in the region, and also better than many in the wealthy West. Whereas some teachers in Germany had no contact with their students for several weeks, there was a constant exchange between pupils and teachers in Uruguay. Instead of blurry scans and erroneous internet links hiding content that could not be found, Uruguay was able to offer schoolchildren digital schoolbooks with science experiments, homework in the form of quizzes or games, interactive video conferences, personalized exercises, and chats to clear up any questions. It has already been more than 10 years since the country—as one of six around the world—introduced a one-laptop-per-child policy. On top of that, Uruguay installed free internet in public squares around the country, including in rural areas, and also founded a state agency for digital education called Plan Ceibal. “In general, the last school year worked quite well,” says Fiorella Haim, a manager at Plan Ceibal.

Spurred by lockdown, Spain gives 4-day week a try (AP) After years of waiting tables, Danae De Vries is one step closer to achieving her lifetime dream of becoming a theater coach. Ironically, she owes that to the pandemic. It was after last year’s brutal lockdown that shut the Spanish economy down for weeks that the owners of a small restaurant chain in Madrid offered De Vries to cut her weekly work schedule by one day. Already struggling to make ends meet in a city that has seen rental prices spiral, the 28-year-old was hesitant at first—and then enthusiastic when she was told her wages would remain untouched. Experimenting with cutting back one workday per week is about to go nationwide in Spain—the first country in Europe to do so. A three-year pilot project will be using 50 million euros ($59 million) from the European Union’s massive coronavirus recovery fund to compensate some 200 mid-size companies as they resize their workforce or reorganize production workflows to adapt to a 32-hour working week. The funds will go to subsidizing all of the employers’ extra costs in the first year of the trial and then reduce the government’s aid to 50% and 25% each consecutive year.

Myanmar security forces kill over 90 in 'horrifying' day of bloodshed (Reuters) Security forces killed more than 90 people, including some children, across Myanmar on Saturday in one of the bloodiest days of protests since a military coup last month, news reports and witnesses said. The lethal crackdown, which took place on Armed Forces Day, drew strong renewed criticism from Western countries. British Ambassador Dan Chugg said the security forces had “disgraced themselves” and the U.S. envoy called the violence horrifying. Senior General Min Aung Hlaing, the junta leader, said during a parade to mark Armed Forces Day that the military would protect the people and strive for democracy. At least 29 people, including a 13-year-old girl, were killed in Mandalay, and at least 24 people were killed in Yangon, Myanmar Now said.

Beaten, Cuffed, Hauled Away: When Myanmar’s Military Comes Knocking (NYT) When the police and soldiers arrived in the middle of the night, they fired their guns into the air, threw stones through the windows and threatened to drive a car through the front door if no one opened it. U Shwe Win and his family were asleep. It was 2:30 a.m. The police and soldiers had come to arrest Mr. Shwe Win’s son, Ko Win Htut Nyein. When they found him, they beat and handcuffed the 19-year-old before hauling him away. His offense, the family was told, was taking videos of the police at a protest in Mandalay the day before. More than two weeks later, Mr. Shwe Win is still searching for his son. The authorities say they have no record of his arrest. Since the Feb. 1 coup in Myanmar, millions of pro-democracy protesters have joined demonstrations against the military and participated in general strikes and a civil disobedience movement that have brought the economy to a virtual halt. Security forces have responded with increasing ruthlessness, shooting people in the streets and arbitrarily beating and arresting people. Soldiers and the police invade homes in the middle of the night, searching for opponents of military rule. Many have gone into hiding. Some are arrested and released. Others wind up missing, tortured or dead.

Israelis gather for Passover, celebrating freedom from virus (AP) A year ago, Giordana Grego’s parents spent Passover at home in Israel, alone but grateful that they had escaped the worst of the pandemic in Italy. This year, the whole family will get together to mark the Jewish feast of liberation and deliverance from the pandemic. Israel has vaccinated over half its population of 9.3 million, and as coronavirus infections have plummeted, authorities have allowed restaurants, hotels, museums and theaters to re-open. Up to 20 people can now gather indoors. It’s a stark turnaround from last year, when Israel was in the first of three nationwide lockdowns, with businesses shuttered, checkpoints set up on empty roads and people confined to their homes. Passover is the Jewish holiday celebrating the biblical Israelites’ liberation from slavery in Egypt after a series of divine plagues. The week-long springtime festival starts Saturday night with the highly ritualized Seder meal, when the Exodus story is retold. It’s a Thanksgiving-like atmosphere with family, friends, feasting and four cups of wine.

Salvager hopes to free ship blocking Suez Canal by start of next week (Reuters) A giant container ship grounded in the Suez Canal could be freed by the start of next week if heavier tugboats, dredging and a high tide succeed in dislodging it, a Dutch firm working to free the vessel said. The 400-metre (430-yard) long Ever Given became wedged diagonally across a southern section of the canal amid high winds early on Tuesday, disrupting global shipping by blocking one of the world’s busiest waterways. About 15% of world shipping traffic passes through the canal, and dozens of vessels are waiting in the waterway and around its northern and southern entrances for the blockage to be cleared.

Piracy fears mount as ships take long way around Africa to avoid blocked Suez Canal (Washington Post) Brand-new Kia automobiles, cases of Heineken beer, live animals and billions of dollars of crude oil and other commodities remained stranded in the Suez Canal throughout the day on Friday. Meanwhile, a number of global shipping companies on Friday began steering ships toward the longer route to Europe via the Cape of Good Hope in southern Africa. Detouring around Africa is likely to add a week or two to most itineraries. It will also mean hundreds of thousands of dollars in additional fuel costs. With more ships potentially being diverted to the Cape of Good Hope, piracy could increase. Pirates have long preyed on ships moving in the waters off the Horn of Africa, and the seas off oil-rich West Africa are now considered among the world’s most dangerous for shipping.

A Year Into Remote Work, No One Knows When to Stop Working Anymore (WSJ) The daily alarm Katie Lipp sets isn’t meant to wake her up. It reminds her to go to bed. The employment attorney in Fairfax, Va., said she has tried a range of techniques to set boundaries while working long days from home running her law practice during the pandemic. Few measures work as well as the 9:45 p.m. alarm she started setting last month, though she admits to snoozing it occasionally to fire out one last email. “You never feel like what you’re doing is good enough, so you get stuck in a trap of overworking,” Ms. Lipp, the mother of a 5-year-old, said. A year into the Covid-19 era, many can relate. Employees say work-life boundaries blurred, then vanished, as waking life came to mean “always on” at work. Experts warn that working around the clock—while slipping in meals, helping with homework and grabbing a few moments with a partner—isn’t sustainable, and employers are trying ways to get staff to dial back.

#headlines #news

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teacherinthestreets · 4 years ago

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“Appears to Be a Woman”

I set my alarm for 7am. My husband and I had the brooms out and ready. We figured, if we could wake up early on a Sunday to clean up Center City, we should do the same for Kensington. Plus, we’re homeowners in Fishtown and it feels like the neighborly thing to do. We walked under the El, sweeping up glass into piles, and at 9am I popped a headphone in my ear and joined my high school’s Monday morning meeting on Zoom. Since COVID closed down our schools, we’ve been meeting virtually. My colleagues shared their thoughts and feelings as we reflected on recent events. We’re all devastated by how especially scared and traumatized our Black and Brown students and their families must be. The general tone is of bewilderment. One colleague commented on the fact that her husband is a retired police officer and her family members are cops. She expressed her confusion and confoundment- police are trained to handle protesters so why are they doing this?

We headed back home so I could join my students for virtual office hours. As a special education teacher who’s worked in Philadelphia for ten years, I’ve never struggled this much to entertain my students. By nature, I’m silly and a goofball. I tell jokes, don silly cat shirts, and wear a giant purple squid hat when the mood strikes. This is hard to convey online so I’ve resorted to playing lots of games on Kahoot! I always play with them and I always lose, but let’s pretend I lose on purpose.

After the strange school day is done, my husband, friend and I head out on foot to the protest. There is a group of unions gathering together to discuss our role in advocating for change to support People of Color for the betterment of all. I’m wearing my Working Educators shirt, which is bright red and useful in case my friends and I get separated in the crowd. I could barely hear the speakers, but clapped heartily anyway. I saw a former student in the crowd and awkwardly air-hugged him. Then we began our march. Chanting loudly, sometimes in unison, and walking through the streets I love. I was flanked by two colleagues from school as well as my friends and husband. I felt that although this was something small, that’s how most revolutions succeed. Old, archaic systems are pulled asunder through death by a thousand cuts. My cut today was holding aloft my cute and colorful sign of the “This is Fine” dog.

When our group crossed the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, we came to a halt. The police had blocked the bridge we intended to go over. We saw the group flood down the hill and onto 676. My husband and I held hands as we continued the march. What’s a little traffic to get the attention of hundreds for a worthy cause? We saw people in their cars lean out and shout, everything I heard was supportive, but then again I am trained to listen for the good and filter out the bad as there would be no way else to survive teaching high school students otherwise. As we walked under the overpass, I saw a wave of people running towards me. I froze. My husband grabbed me and helped me onto a ledge on the side of the road. When we could move again I saw a line of officers, clad in black. They were at the other end of the bridge so I couldn’t see anymore than that. Suddenly, a girl drops to her knees. She’s crying and bleeding, but I can’t tell from where. A fellow protestor reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of water to help clean the wound. I turned and saw another fellow protester on the ground, holding his face. He looked unable to stand. I was scared so I started to leave him. There were people around, someone else would help him. I heard someone next to him yell, he’s been hit by rubber bullets and tear gas! Up to this point I didn’t realize we were being shot at. I paused, perplexed. I saw my husband see the man’s distress and move toward the prostrate figure. He picked up cardboard and used it to shield the man. In spite of my trepidation, I knew I had to help as my backpack was full of water and a first aid kit. I crouched down to assist, but we were all soon on our feet as we felt more rubber bullets fly passed us and the smell of tear gas was getting stronger. I felt nips at my ankles. Is that what a rubber bullet feels like? Unfortunately, I would soon find out.

The tear gas began flooding the street. My husband held my hand and we ran. With police surrounding us, we were forced up a hill and into a tall ten foot metal fence. As I stepped up to leave. Whap! I screamed out and fell to the ground. Something hit me in my back and the sting knocked the wind out of me. A fellow protestor to my right grabbed my arm to help me up. At this point, I see my husband and I have broken apart, but I can’t get back to him. I think I’m screaming or crying, maybe both. I breathe in the gas and think, this is how I die. I survived traveling the Middle East alone for a year and I die on the side of 676. I am bent over vomiting when an officer pushes me down to zip tie my hands behind my back. When I realize what is happening I ask him if I can get my ID from my bag which has fallen off when I was blindly and desperately searching for a bottle of water to douse my eyes with. He tells me, you don’t get shit. I ask him if it’s my right to have an ID on me (because I honestly don’t know). He responds angrily, saying I can’t get it. I take a step toward my bag and he pushes me down again and yells something. I’m shaking, begging him, please, please, please, I just want my ID. What if they arrest me and claim they don’t know who I am so I’m kept longer? Please, I beg again, I just want my ID. He tells me to stand up. I try to maneuver my way to standing while on a slant with my hands tied behind my back. The tear gas has got me spun around and sick. I can’t see and the pain in my back is incessant. I am almost up when I feel him push me back down. He then dragged me down the hill backward, over the branches and brambles. I wobbly stand once at the bottom of the hill and get in position. I am relieved even though there is vomit on my chin and snot is streaming down my face. The girl next to me asks if I’m ok and says she wishes she could help me wipe my nose. Some air is coming into my lungs. I start to feel like I might not die, only to realize that I am being arrested.

My mom, dad, friends, family- they all told me to be safe. Be safe? I have never thrown a rock, or broken a window in my life. I’ve never shoved anyone, except when jokingly imitating Elaine from Seinfeld. Why should they be worried about my safety? I was there to support, but I don’t make messes. I help clean them up, that’s what I do. Now, I realize that was my privilege telling me I was safe. My cousin is a cop. I may be against the system, but individuals can see me for who I am: not a threat. That was my privilege. It told me the police would see I was peaceful and I would be fine. As I recall the screams and sobs now, I realize how very wrong I was.

After I was bent over the median, my situation sunk in. I followed orders. Thanked every officer. Yes sir, thank you, sir. I was pat-down, but with no pockets and no bra, I was an easy search. We were moved to the middle of the road and sat on the median. The girl next to me asks me to look at her hand. She wants to know what color it is. It’s turning purple, I tell her. She tries to ask an officer for help. I ask a little louder. We are laughed at and she’s told that they’ll see her in the ICU. I look at the line of those zip-tied and try to see if my husband is there. When I don’t see him I search the crowd above, but my glasses are covered in chemicals. (It turns out he was up at the top of the hill screaming for me he was forced away by police.)

When we are loaded into the white school buses, I feel like I’m in a strange alternate universe. At this point in the school year, we would be taking field trips in a bus similar to this, but not as clean and devoid of bars. The girl behind me is texting on her cell phone backwards. She asks if she can text anyone for me. Oh my god, I’ve been with my husband for seven years and I never memorized his number. I give her my parents numbers and hope they will see the text during their Zoom birthday conference for my aunt. I am relieved when she tells me they responded. Phew. At least someone knows where I am.

We sit on the bus, packed with women, ages ranging from early twenties to thirties. There are a few women crying, but everyone is encouraging each other. Someone asks if anyone has been arrested before. The girl next to me replies, does drunk and disorderly in college count? Everyone else shakes their heads no.

When we reach the station they tell us we are going in five at a time to be processed. The girl who texted my parents for me asks for those who need medical support to let it be known so they can go first. I’m in awe that even in this stressful situation, she has the foresight to be so kind and compassionate towards everyone.

As I am brought in to be processed, I remember my former student in the crowd. I wish I could see if he is ok. I continue to comply in my normal friendly and gracious manner. A young Black woman in my group of five asks why they need her address again. She’s got some flint in her voice, but she doesn’t curse and is respectful. The officers attempting to process her begin a back and forth at one point accusing her of probably never having a job in her whole life. When she asks why they would think that of her and asks whether it is because she is Black, several officers erupt into laughter and mockingly decry the stupidity of her comment. Her friend stands up in her defense and one of the officers tells her to sit her ass down or she can stay the night. He says they could use the company. He yells at her (and us) stating that this is what we get for breaking windows and causing a riot. They protest and are waved away and told to hush-up or they’ll be locked-up.

The officer processing me is polite, when he asks my profession and I tell him I’m a teacher he perks up and asks where I teach. When I tell him he’s genuinely excited as our school is unique and has been a Philly landmark since the 50’s. I’m given my Code Violation Notice for “Failure to Disperse” (I laugh and think that they should give that to the fence for blocking my way, but also wondering if stopping us from dispersing was the point because trapping us on that hill sure felt like it). A polaroid photo of me is taken and a young officer writes my name on the bottom. They point me to the exit. I smile and thank everyone. Like they did me a favor. Like they didn’t have a hand in what I just experienced.

I see the girl who texted my parents outside. She’s passing out water and waiting for her ride. She graciously lends me her phone and I call my mom. I tell her I’m ok, ask her to call my husband and give her my cross streets. I ask her to tell him that I’m just going to start walking home on Montgomery Ave.

I hear my husband’s emblematic “yeerrrp!” and turn around. He’s with two of my other friends who had been trying to retrieve my backpack. I don’t care they weren’t successful, their smiling faces let me know how lucky and loved I am. I think about how this was a strange experience for me, one that I will hopefully never experience again. One that I don’t have to live in fear with experiencing again. Again, I notice my privilege in a new and deeper way. It reminds me why I went to the streets in the first place, why I have chosen Philadelphia as my home. Why I continue to teach in the city that I love and fight for a better future for each of my students.

When I arrive home to Fishtown, we are told that the 26th precinct has a gathering of White men and women with bats, shovels, and axes. After hearing the gathering using racial slurs, cursing, smoking pot, drinking, and yelling about their guns- other Fishtown residents ask the police to disperse the gathering, to which the police’s response was dismissive and cursory.

When home, I read the statement from Mayor Kenney and Police Commissioner Danielle Outlaw on what I went through, which was beyond disheartening. I voted for Kenney and I was excited to see a badass Black Commissioner woman take charge (I mean, with the last name Outlaw, I thought she’s got to be great). She stated in her press release, “While on the roadway, the crowd surrounded a State Trooper, who was alone and seated in his vehicle, and began rocking the vehicle, with the trooper having no safe means of egress. Two teams from the Philadelphia Police SWAT Unit arrived. While the SWAT officers were present, members of the crowd began throwing rocks at the officers from the north and south sides, and from the bridges above the officers. The crowd also began rushing toward the officers. The SWAT officers gave numerous orders for the crowd to disperse, to which the crowd did not comply.”

I am too devastated to even respond. Throwing rocks? Rocking a police vehicle? Refusing to disperse? How could these blatant lies be shared so easily? Every detail is false to every second of my experience, but if people in power say it, won’t everyone believe it?

The dichotomy of this day hurts in a profound way. As my adrenaline fades and I hear the encouraging words from my family and friends, I feel like I will be ok. My husband pulls up a video from the news of what happened to us on 676. I watch the situation unfold from above and can pick myself out in some shots because of my bright red shirt. Then I see it. I’m being dragged down the hill and the camera zooms in. The reporters notice and comment at my sorry state and I can’t help, but laugh when one says “[she] appears to be a woman.”

#nojustnopeace #nogoodcopsinaracistsystem #fightthepower #power to the people

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science-fiction-is-real · 4 years ago

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STOP TRYING TO GET ME TO VOTE FOR BIDEN.

Okay. Look. If you plan to vote for Biden, I won’t stop you. And I understand.

But I would like to make a few points as to why I personally will NOT be voting for Biden.

We do actually have other options. Biden is evil, not just “less than perfect,” but actually evil. Donald Trump is not the cause of our problems, and this becomes especially clear when you look at the behavior of past Democratic presidents and when you apply a little Marxist theory regarding the State. Also A Biden victory is in itself a form of harm, not harm reduction.

1) WE DO ACTUALLY HAVE OTHER OPTIONS BESIDES VOTING FOR BIDEN.

First of all, the fact that you can even mention 3rd and sometimes even 4th and 5th party candidates indicates that: Yes, we LITERALLY DO have other options. Are they LIKELY to win?

No. But only because people don’t vote for them. We are not trapped in a two party system, though we may be trapped psychologically. It IS actually possible to create new political parties, and for existing small parties to grow into large parties. This is a long-term goal, and probably not something that will happen by November. But the first step is to realize that the democratic party are not our friends.

Second, and most important, voting is a tiny plastic water gun in the vast nuclear arsenal we have at our disposal when it comes to political activity. Historically speaking, even the most nasty and reactionary asshole presidents suddenly start acting REAAAAAL progressive when they are faced with mass populist movements causing civil unrest. This also applies to senators, congresspersons, and members of the court. Remember Richard Nixon passing landmark Women’s Rights legislation? In fact, the level of political activity of the masses is 8 millions times more important than who is in the Whitehouse.

Where we should really be focusing our efforts is in organizing and movement building. Protest. Go on strike. Propagandize. Obstruct. Disrupt. And most importantly:

JOIN AN ORG! Join an org. Join an org. Join an ORG! Join labor unions. Join political parties. Join non-profits. Becoming a dues-paying member of a Socialist organization is worth a thousand votes. You will meet experienced comrades who know the ins and outs of political activism, who will show you the ropes, and will put you to work doing something productive.

Join the Democratic Socialists of America. Join the Industrial Workers of the World. I’m a member of a political party called the Socialist Alternative.

2) BIDEN ISN’T “LESS THAN PERFECT.” HE IS A MUSTACHE TWIRLING SUPERVILLAIN.

Biden is not a Liberal. He’s a center-right conservative. He embraces Neoliberal policies that leave working class people to die in poverty and debt. He has made no serious attempts to cater toward Bernie’s base. He is unspeakably Racist, and actually wrote the bill that created Mass Incarceration as we currently know it.

As part of the Obama Administration he was complicit in all of Obama’s abominable atrocities. From the drone strike program which killed countless civilians, to the escalation of a draconian surveillance state, to the mass deportation of 3 million immigrants. Obama created the structures that Trump is currently using to terrorize immigrants, minorities, and protestors. And he created them for the very purpose Trump is using them for. Biden was there every step along the way. Biden has espoused violent rhetoric about doing violence against protesters, arresting people with certain political beliefs, and condoning police brutality.

Biden is better MAAAAYYBE better only on 2 issues. Abortion rights and LBGT rights. And while those issues are important. I highly doubt he will make any progress on those issues.

Biden has said over and over again that he would pander to the republicans and compromise with them every chance he gets. He certainly has stated callous disregard for the lives of working class people. And we can only assume that he will betray women’s rights and LBGT rights the moment he finds it politically convenient.

And don’t give me crap about RBG. Biden will not replace Ruth Bader Ginsburg with another liberal. He will replace her with a centrist, or do what Obama did and let the Republicans pick the replacement for him. And also the supreme court is a tyrannical, undemocratic institution anyway and should probably just be abolished full-stop.

Joe Biden’s rhetoric isn’t even less fascistic than Trump's either. He says his racist, sexist, anti-working-class sentiment out loud.

And with his billionaire and corporate backers, he certainly can’t be trusted to act on climate change.

He will not respond positively to the pandemic either. He has expressed out loud no plan of how HE would handle the pandemic, and if his democratic colleagues in congress give us a clue… well, the Dems have been incredibly stingy with their money, refusing funds for relief for the working class. They have not put up a serious fight for any measures to actually stop the Virus’s spread.

If he’s the “Lesser of Two Evils.” He is just evil.

3) IT DOESN’T ACTUALLY MATTER WHO THE PRESIDENT IS.

Trump is not actually the cause of our problems. He isn’t. Donald Trump is a fat asshole with a desk job. Donald Trump did not invent racism. He did not invent sexism or xenophobia or hatred against the LBGT+ community. If Donald Trump died tomorrow, the forces of reaction would carry on their merry way. Donald Trump is in office because he is willing to carry out policies that are favorable to the ruling class. And the moment he stopped doing that, he would be quickly disposed of, either by impeachment or by a military coup.

And in fact, the violence we are seeing from the Trump administration comes from the way the government itself is constructed. Not from some diseased ideology unique to the American Right Wing.

So let’s think about this a little more carefully. Why do we have a government in the first place? You know, a government, the “state,” the law itself? It’s not to negotiate peace between different conflicting segments of society, because they are obviously very bad at that. It’s not to ensure the public good and protect the rights of the citizens. Because the government doesn’t really do that either.

And this isn’t just a problem when Republicans are in power. See my previous examples of Obama’s unspeakable atrocities.

The reason we have a government is to enforce and maintain class based society. The State is nothing more than Armed bodies of men who exist for the purpose of allowing one class to suppress another class. The government’s job is to suppress uprisings, control the working class, assume risk on behalf of the capitalist class, and to fight wars on behalf of the capitalist class. That’s why the Feds are kidnapping protestors. That’s why immigrants are being put in cages. That’s why the police harass and intimidate Black people. To maintain and enforce the power structure.

All of these bad things happened when Obama was president. And All of these bad things will continue to happen if Biden is elected. This violence we’re seeing isn’t the result of Trump. You can’t even call this violence Fascism, because this is NORMAL. Fascism is a specific political phenomena that occurs under very specific circumstances . This violence is literally just the government doing its job. It’s worse now because the economy is going through a rough patch, which isn’t the government’s fault, it’s just because Capitalism is unstable.

The Right and Left Parties represent different segments of the ruling class, and the election process is about the ruling class negotiating differences among itself. The democratic party does not represent the interest of regular people like You and me, and you DO NOT OWE THEM YOUR VOTE.

2) VOTING FOR BIDEN ISN’T HARM REDUCTION. IT IS ITSELF A HARM.

A Biden Victory could have several negative consequences.

The democratic party will continue its decades-long drift toward the right. The democratic leadership will see once and for all that they can get away with running any evil sleazy candidate they want who will serve the interest of their corporate benefactors, and that the public will remain loyal as long as they coat their sleeziness with “Woke” rhetoric. If the Democrats learn that you will vote for them no matter what they do, then your vote loses all of its power.

It could trigger violent backlash from Trump’s far-right base.

It gives legitimacy to an ultimately UNdemocratic system which is breaking at the seams.

It could pacify a lot of the militant, but less educated segments of the working class who have swallowed the rhetoric that Biden is their ally. They will disperse from the streets, meanwhile Biden is free to continue the violent, racist, war-hawkish, neoliberal agenda that Trump, Obama, and Bush did before him.

CONCLUSION

Joe Biden is not our friend. The Democratic Party are not our friends. Trump is awful, and he sucks. If we DON’T vote for Biden, Trump may very well win the Presidential Race. But considering that Biden himself is very evil, and that Trump is not the true cause of the violence and hatred we see coming from our government, the stakes in this race are a lot lower than you have been led to believe.

A protest vote could send a strong message to the Ruling Class that we are not satisfied with racist, violent, neoliberal leadership, and that we want real change.

Also, we actually are NOT stuck in a two party system. There is a growing movement within the United States to create and grow a worker’s party that represents truly progressive ideas, one where regular people hold party leadership directly accountable, and the party is forced to serve our interests instead of those of the ruling class. The first step in building such a party is to let the Democrats go, and stop placing our hopes in people who do not care about us.

But the most important thing to remember:

The ballot box is not the end-all and be-all of political activity. The ruling class has created this little ceremony of “voting,” inviting us working class folks to come and play their little game of “pick the dictator,” and giving us the illusion that this makes a real difference. But we have no way of holding politicians in office accountable when they break their campaign promises, and we are only allowed to vote for options the ruling class allows us to see on the ballots.

We DO have power to change the system, but we have to do it outside the ruling-class’s terms. We have to be organized and active and militant enough that the ruling class believes we pose an actual threat to their authority.

We have to do the type of things we currently see American’s doing in the streets right now. Causing a major disruption, threatening the capitalists’ profits, and threatening the politicians’ sense of authority and control.

But we have to remain organized and militant even after the current wave of protests dies down. And we do that by building left wing institutional power -- by JOINING ORGS.

JOIN A GOD DAMN ORG YOU COWARDS.

#Joe Biden #Democrats #republicans #donald trump #2020 election #politics #U.S. politics #american politics #socialism

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crimethinc · 5 years ago

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The Uprising in Ecuador: Inside the Quito Commune—An Interview from on the Front Lines

In early October, a wave of protests swept the streets of Ecuador against cuts in gasoline subsidies and, consequently, rising costs of living. This has become the country’s largest popular uprising in decades. Indigenous marches arrived in Quito, the capital, and occupied the Parliament building; thousands of protesters confronted President Lenín Moreno’s police forces, forcing the government to relocate its headquarters to try to escape the insurrection. Moreno is the successor to and former vice president of the leftist Rafael Correa, who rode to power on the momentum of the social movements of the 1990s and ruled the country from 2007 on, implementing the same neoliberal model for pacifying and co-opting social movements applied by other left governments in Latin America like the Workers Party (PT) in Brazil. The convergence of various rural, city, student, women, and indigenous groups has contributed to radicalizing a struggle that is now becoming a popular uprising.

On Monday morning, October 14, the Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador announced that the president had backed down and agreed to repeal the decree 883, the austerity bill (known as the paquetazo, package), and replace it with new agreements to be build with indigenous movements. But the Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador (CONAIE) announced that the struggle continues, demanding the departure of the Ministers of Defense and Interior, who were responsible for the violent repression of the protests.

We conducted this interview on October 10, directly with comrades on the barricades in the streets of Ecuador, in order to understand the background of the mobilization.

Protesters clashing with police in Quito, October 8.

The governments of Brazil and Argentina and institutions associated with the European Union are declaring their support for the government of Lenín Moreno in Ecuador and denouncing the popular revolt of working-class and indigenous people. Obviously, these institutions know that austerity policies are also on their agenda and fear that the same scenario will spread across the Americas and other parts of the globe.

How do you see austerity and subsidy-cutting policies affecting daily life in Ecuador? What was it that caused the urban population and indigenous people to say “enough”? Is there an anti-capitalist sentiment on the streets?

The resistance that is happening at this moment, which is already eight days old, is already an historic event. It is the biggest uprising in recent years—historically, I don’t know, but it is certainly the biggest strike in recent years, which has as its protagonist the indigenous people, because the uprisings of the past did not last as long as they are now.

Austerity and the policy of subsidy reductions affect daily life in Ecuador, but I believe there is a class divide in what is happening these days in Quito and throughout the country. Part of the population does not understand the reasons for the protest; they say that in fact the government is not raising the price of gasoline but merely removing an existing subsidy. What they do not understand is that increasing gasoline increases the price of tickets, for example. A 10 cent increase is a lot for a public university student. Food prices have also increased during this period. For small vendors who buy things for their everyday use and earn very little, it affects them a lot. For example, a sack of potatoes that was $18 ten days ago is now $30 to $35 dollars.

There has been an immediate spike in gasoline prices. The annual subsidies allowed for greater access to food staples and other types of consumer goods; most of the food—for example, vegetables grown in the Sierra [the Andes] or bananas grown on the Costa plantations—is transported in diesel trucks. Most city buses, too. There is a connection between gas subsides and the prices of basic grocery products. If gas costs rise, all prices will rise—food, transport, power.

As I said, there is a class issue: the middle class may not be suffering as a consequence of these measures, but most of the population is already feeling them. Indigenous people know that they will not be able to sell their products—and that when they have to sell them to townspeople, they will earn very little. In the end, this is a chain in which the direct producer is the one who earns the least, and they know it. It’s necessary to understand that here, the food in the big cities arrives from the countryside, so there is a direct effect of the rising price of gasoline on the small producers in the countryside, where most of the indigenous people live.

Regarding anti-capitalist sentiment on the streets, the left has been very divided since Rafael Correa came to power 12 years ago, establishing a left-wing government that capitalized on the social protests of the 1990s and the first years of the 21st century. Many of the protagonists of the struggles of those times ended up joining the government. During those years, there were people who believed in this government, but later realized that it was following a very capitalist direction. This prevented real unity on the left.

Now, at this moment in history, I do not believe that there was a growth process by which social movements developed until they reached this moment of explosion. Various things have happened in the social field in recent years, but there was no clear direction towards revolutionary and community organization. It is as if the social movements were asleep, and overnight, thanks to the “paquetazo” [the economic reform “package”],1 everyone suddenly came together, and this caused the struggle to radicalize. For example, there were many blockades in neighborhoods, on the outskirts of cities, in small villages, and this kept the struggle alive for eight days.

A march of thousands of indigenous people converged on Quito.

On October 8, thousands of indigenous people occupied the Parliament building in Quito. Can you describe for us what happened there?

In fact, the Indians arrived on October 7, on Monday, and there was a pitched battle in Quito that lasted five or six hours involving students, social movements, and other residents of Quito who were trying to keep the police busy in order to enable the indigenous comrades to enter. Recall that we are living in a State of Exception, so the military is on the streets and had blocked Quito’s main entrances, the North and South entrances, to prevent indigenous people from other provinces from entering. However, the people were so well-organized that the military did not have enough intelligence at their disposal to stop them. The fact that the fight took place in the city center also opened up gaps that enabled the indigenous people to reach the historic center.

Just as we pushed the police back, we saw the crowded trucks coming and the bikes that accompanied the indigenous caravan. It was a very exciting moment.

They went directly to El Arbolito Park, next to the Salesian University, where logistical support for the movement is organized. The following day, a rally took place at Parque El Arbolito and people agreed to take the Assembly (the parliament building in Quito). When we arrived there, a first delegation entered, then gradually more and more people entered, while there were thousands of people at the door of the Assembly wanting to enter. Police shot tear gas canisters at people, which created a mass panic. People could have been trampled to death because many could not breathe; people ran in various directions. Meanwhile, police continued to fire tear gas canisters and rubber bullets at protesters. At that moment, a very great repression began.

The Assembly, strategically speaking, is like a small fort perched on a hill; to protect it, the police positioned themselves at a higher point so that snipers could hit the protesters with tear gas canisters and also live rounds. As a result, the police inflicted a large number of injuries and some deaths, as they were in a strategic position.

The idea of going to the Assembly was one of the actions that the indigenous movement had decided to carry out during these days in Quito. Until yesterday [Wednesday, October 9], there was a lot of concern because there was no clear strategy, while the government refused to back down and kept increasing the repression. The fact that police sent tear gas into shelters and peace encalves such as the Salesian University and the Catholic University caused a great deal of outrage; in a way, this was a blow to the government, because the news circulated despite the news shutdown that the mainstream media and the government have been trying to maintain.

Today [Thursday, October 10], in the morning, eight police officers were captured by the movement and brought to the large popular and indigenous assembly at the House of Culture, where there were about 10,000 or 15,000 people. The reporters who were there ended up broadcasting the assembly live, even if they didn’t do it in the best way. In a way, this broke the media siege by disclosing, for example, the fact that an indigenous leader of Cotopaxi, Inocencio Tucumbi, had been killed. He had lost consciousness after inhaling a lot of tear gas and was then trampled by a police horse. That had not appeared in the mainstream media. Suddenly, the dead appeared on the big television channels and it became clear to the general public that—yes, the government is killing people and carrying out repression at an extreme level!

So today’s strategy was successful. As I told you, yesterday, there was still no very precise strategy, but today we were more organized. People formed a procession one kilometer long from the House of Culture to the Hospital to transport the body of a comrade. Many people applauded; it was also a moment of great emotion. We said goodbye to him with great honor, because he was a great fighting companion. People also promised at that time that the fight would continue in his memory. It was also a time to regroup, to rest, to consider what strategy to follow in the coming days, and to share this general pain by thinking of those who have fallen, those who are injured, giving us the courage to keep fighting.

The demand from the Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador (CONAIE) next was clear, announcing that if the government radicalized the violence, obviously the street would also in response become radicalized.

When night came, the police were released and handed over at the front of the Assembly, in the midst of a large demonstration. Because the Assembly and the House of Culture are near each other, there was a kind of permanent demonstration taking place in front of the Assembly and the area was full of protesters. There were about 30,000 people in the area tonight. When the police were handed over, the indigenous people made it clear that they had been detained for entering an area that had been declared a peace zone. This is why they had been detained, but now they were being released safe and sound. This stands in contrast to police practice, because on the day the Assembly was taken, the police took about 80 prisoners. Almost all of them were released yesterday with marks of violence and injuries.

Crowds taking over police vehicles in Quito on October 9 during the national strike.

Indigenous peoples have declared their own State of Exception in their territories, threatening and arresting state agents who have dared to enter those regions. Can you describe this form of autonomy and territorial organization?

About the State of Exception decreed in the indigenous territories, this also explains the episode I just described. For at this time, the House of Culture and the surrounding regions are being considered indigenous territories, so it was understood that the police violated the exceptional sovereignty of the indigenous peoples and were therefore detained. This also took place in other indigenous territories this week, when military forces who violated these territories were arrested and military buses and armored vehicles were hijacked. Indigenous peoples have long demanded autonomy in their territories and have their own indigenous principles. When a problem occurs within these territories, such as someone stealing or causing trouble, the case is resolved by indigenous justice without going through state justice.

From the moment the Government decreed the State of Exception, in response, the Indians also decreed a State of Exception in their territories as a way to reduce the level of repression and also to pressure the military and police. On the street or in the territories, representatives of the state repress people, so they know they are in danger of being detained. In response, in various territories, military and police officers were detained, disarmed, and released after a few days after having experienced indigenous justice. This functions to make the accused person face the reality of everything he has done, depending on the offense committed, and in relation to this, the punishment to be suffered by the prisoner is decided in a communal way.

Regarding ethnicities, let’s say CONAIE is divided between all indigenous peoples and other peoples including cholos (mestizos) and black people from the equator. There are the indigenous people of the coast, the people of Serra Norte, Serra Central, Serra do sul, and those from the east, from the Amazon region, and they all come together through the Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador.

There are rumors from the government media that CONAIE is making deals with the government and it seems that the government is trying to divide the movement between “good protesters” and “bad protesters.” But in the last few hours [of October 10], however, there have been reports that there is no agreement between CONAIE and the government. What chance is there that state cooption will be successful? How willing is CONAIE to radicalize the movement or negotiate? And what influence or effective representation does CONAIE have among indigenous peoples?

Of course, there have been rumors, gossip, lies, and falsehoods from the government and the media aimed at dividing the popular struggle that is taking place today on the streets of Quito and throughout Ecuador. It must be said that the large organizations such as CONAIE and the FUT (the largest labor union in the country) have historically negotiated in times of weakness, and these negotiations have gone nowhere. And because they are large organizations, they also take place within a super-political scenario—thus, sometimes, the movements themselves see them as ambiguous political structures.

But this is normal. Besides, we must see the organizational capacity they have, in this case especially CONAIE, with its historical role, considering that in the past it has managed to overthrow several presidents. In those days, we also saw the power of bus drivers, truck drivers, and taxi drivers that paralyze the city and the power of the students who took to the streets. The truth is that bus drivers and truck drivers have a very self-interested historical role in Ecuador and they decided to get out of the strike as soon as they were able to raise ticket prices, whereas other people, especially students, managed to keep the fight going on the streets and the Indians immediately joined in. Both the urban movement and the indigenous movement soon managed to decentralize the attention that was initially exclusively directed at bus drivers and truck drivers.

So yes, there were these rumors. But today [October 10], there is attention focused on the arrests of the police officers and on the journalists who immediately went there. The leaders of each indigenous group and CONAIE’s president, Mr. Vargas, have publicly stated that they will not negotiate with the government because there is no negotiating about the blood of the dead and that the conditions for initiating a dialogue would be the elimination of decree 883 (the “paquetazo”), that the IMF leave the country, and that Interior Minister Maria Paual Romo and Defense Minister Oswaldo Jarrín immediately resign because they are to blame for the deaths. Obviously, there is a lot of pressure from the base in these organizations.

Over the previous days, there were a few meetings, mainly between leaders and the high command of political organizations. But today [October 10], it was decided to hold a popular assembly that lasted many hours and every decision was the result of consultation with everyone, with the base population that was there. There were about 10-15 thousand people and everything was then decided collectively. We can also say that grassroots pressure is compelling the leadership to make radical decisions as well, not to sell out the movement out of desperation for fear of being arrested or in return for money the government wants to give them under the table.

CONAIE, in general, has a huge representation. In Ecuador, if you think of indigenous peoples, you think immediately of CONAIE. It is a very large organization with considerable political structure and also communicative, strategic. Today we saw very well how they managed to “turn over the tortilla” and put the government in difficulty.

Welcome to the Quito Commune: a barricade near the National Assembly building on October 12.

The government accuses former President Rafael Correa of being behind the demonstrations. But it doesn’t appear that the Correistas [supporters of Correa] are playing a leading role. What is Correa’s role in the current phase of activity, both in the marches and in the possibility of “peaceful” or electoral co-optation and exit from the conflict?

Obviously, the government accused Correa, accused Maduro, alleged that Correa had traveled to Venezuela and, from there, developed a plan to destabilize the government. Now they also saying that the ones behind the street turmoil are Latinquín, which is a “pandilla” (gang) and the FARC [Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia, Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, an insurgent group that fought a civil war against the government for years]. All this shows that government politicians no longer know what to say. Obviously, he’s used to blaming Correa, for two years Correa has been guilty of everything. Although it is true that Correa is a corrupt man who must pay for crimes against humanity, for the repression that took place under his governments, for corruption, it’s senseless to blame him for all that is the responsibility of the current government, which has ruled the country for more than two years. There is a general right-wing custom of supporting Lenín Moreno and blaming Correa every time there is a crisis. If money is lacking, it is because Correa took it; if there are criminals, it is because Correa made laws that liberated criminals; if there are many migrants, it is because of the mobility law. The previous government is always to blame.

That said, over the past year, in mobilizations and marches against the government—which were much smaller than they are now, because now it is a real revolt—the Correistas were always present and this created problems for some social movements who didn’t want to be with them. That made us expect that they would still be present in the marches that are taking place now, as they are also a very consistent group. In fact, on the first day they marched and were repressed; on the second day, they also appeared, but stayed behind the march and simply burned two tires outside the Central Bank while students tried to enter the historic center and confront the police. After that day, the Correistas practically disappeared; people gave them no space. Today [October 10], we were doing interviews with some self-organized companions and we asked them, “What about Correa?” And they all answered very clearly: “I’m not a Correista, I’m not here for Correa, Correa doesn’t pay us.” And this is evident: the Correistas are not in the marches. Certainly a few might be there as individuals, but they are not organized.

Two days ago, on the day of the assembly, Father Tuárez, the president of the Citizen’s Participation Council who was fired for being a religious fanatic, said that God had told him that Correa was the Savior and that he needed to return. He tried to infiltrate the mobilizations, but people forced him to flee. So in short, this possibility does not exist.

This is also interesting: neither political parties nor traditional politicians have been able to appropriate what is happening. The only authorities who propose more “policies” that are seen as possessing legitimacy are the leadership of the FUT and CONAIE unions, which are currently leading the mobilizations. In fact, the power lies in all the people on the streets, and that is very scary to the Right, to the bourgeoisie, to the bankers, to the “owners” of the country, because the street does not accept any of the political leaders.

So the solution may be for the “paquetazo” to fall and for the country to return to calm for some time, but obviously this cannot last long. Another possibility is that Lenín Moreno will resign and the “paquetazo” will remain, and the government will try to distract and pacify the people by focusing attention on the fact that Moreno has left or the process of building a “popular” government, a street-born government—such rumors are already circulating. So imagine what the Right is thinking, the Ecuadorian bourgeoisie. They absolutely cannot permit the streets to win, because that would mean that after 12 or 13 years people are shown something that in common perception no longer exists—that is, that going to the streets is good and that if you get organized, if you resist and keep insisting, you will acheive your goal. That would cause a chain reaction that would once again enable people to believe in their own potential.

The Right knows this and that is why they are all united to try to prevent it from happening.

Barricades in Quito on October 13.

How is the ruling bloc responding to the demonstrations? Could divisions open up between parties, in the military, or elsewhere?

The bloc that holds power is united. The greatest political leaders (Lenín Moreno, Guillermo Lasso, Jaime Nebot, Álvaro Noboa) are all united. Correa obviously says nothing because what he wants to do is capitalize on what’s happening in the upcoming elections. He is well aware that it is not convenient for him to talk too much, because the government is already saying that it is his fault and it is not strategic for him to get too involved. It is enough for people to think that “everything was better when he was there” and in the next elections he is very likely to win. The president is now in Guayaquil, which is the refuge of the social-Christians, the right-wing party, whom everyone feared would win the next election. But now it does not seem possible because, certainly, he will not have the vote of the Sierra, cities like Quito, Ambato, Riobamba, indigenous communities. So everyone in power is united, trying to use every possible means to criminalize the protest.

As for the Armed Forces, we now have a Defense Minister trained in Israel, the Mossad and the School of the Americas, a crazy fascist, a military man. Four days ago, the government imposed a mandatory one-hour government show on radio and television that all companies were compelled to broadcast, in which this madman spoke half the time, threatening that the Armed Forces will be able to defend themselves, that they should not be provoked, that people must remain calm because if they do not, the repression will be fierce, as if we were in a dictatorship. This clearly provoked a lot of outrage. It is not yet known, there is no accurate data, whether there have been desertions within the army or police. What is certain is that the historical role of the army has always been to repress the people, and at a certain moment, when popular discontent is already evident, they try to come up with a strategy to prevent the emergence of a popular government and present themselves as mediators to create a new government, but it usually always ends up being worse than the previous one. Then it is possible that at some point the Armed Forces will begin to create disruption within popular organizations and also to withdraw their support from the president.

**How did the movement transform everyday life in the city of Quito? And how is the day organized in the spaces occupied by the protesters?

The kind of solidarity that has emerged here in the city is amazing; some have renamed it the Quito Commune, because it is not just indigenous people, not just students, not just manifestations. There are blockades in the neighborhoods that are organized. Just as in the Historic Center, the neighborhood of San Juan, for example, is being organized autonomously. When a demonstration arrives, people give you food, water. Yesterday [October 9], when tension shifted to the outskirts of San Juan, in the upper part of the Historic Center, there were several locals arriving bringing stones, people opening the windows of their houses to give the protesters material to burn or to use to protect themselves from tear gas, people opening the doors of their houses to give us water.

Inside houses, people received and helped the injured, providing a space for volunteer doctors to treat them, since ambulances could not get there. There are many volunteer doctors, many of them medical students from the ward, who are helping in the streets, providing emergency assistance to the injured, saving lives. We have an incredible medical apparatus, very organized.

We have spaces to receive and redistribute food: I am part of one of these groups on Whatsapp because the place where I work is serving as a collection point. And throughout the city center, through all the universities, there are places that function as popular canteens, as welcoming spaces for outsiders who have come to Quito to fight. These places are full of donations; sometimes they do not even know where to take all the donations they receive. There are communal kitchens where people come to volunteer to prepare food. Yesterday, I was talking to people from a communal kitchen in Parque Arbolito; there was a gentleman there who was injured when police attacked the Park, because despite the attack the kitchen continued to serve people. The kitchen was set up by a neighborhood of Quito, organized through an evangelical church—there was the pastor and his three giant pots. I was told that they had fed 700 people this day alone.

I also met and spoke with a very humble lady from southern Quito who had a small business. She came in the afternoon in a small van along with her son, passing by the Park to hand out coffee and bread to the people. So really, food is not lacking, there is food everywhere—today I have eaten four times. Everywhere, there are people calling you to eat something; sometimes they take offense if you refuse, because it is a way of donating to the cause.

There are people organized to extinguish the tear gas canisters, and to take care of the people affected by the gas. There are all kinds of organizations—there are people who offer childcare. [At this point, the interviewee coughs: “It was bad, it’s the effect of gas on the lungs.”] There are people who organize games for children. There are people who spend the day singing, playing music. It is really very, very interesting what is happening here. This is why some here speak of the Quito Commune, some say that in some ways, in this regard, we have already made gains at the level of spontaneous self-organization.

But it took a lot of assemblies to be able to organize what is happening now. I believe this is the biggest victory, and we hope it can continue—this spirit of self-organization. This shows that together we can stand up to the government for eight days and paralyze a country for eight days, to ensure that our rights are respected.

October 10: these eight police officers were held captive by indigenous people after entering their territory.

How does the movement plan to organize from tomorrow [October 11]?

Today [October 10], there was a demonstration, with the release of the police who had been arrested, with a call to continue the fight; the indigenous people are still here in Quito. Today was a day of tranquility, peace, mourning. In fact, CONAIE has announced three days of mourning; I don’t know if that means that in the next three days there will be only peaceful marches. But I think strategically it can also serve a little; for example, today was a “peaceful” day, but a lot of things have been achieved, we have gained media attention, the media barrier has been broken—despite the fact that the government cut our cell phone signal and shut down the Internet, which made it difficult to document and communicate about the events via independent media and individual efforts.

I think we are all preparing for a long resistance. If at first we thought it might end suddenly, after what we have seen in recent days, we understand that it will last much longer—and it is. That is why we have to organize the moments of struggle strategically, not burn them up immediately. It is important to try to shape public opinion, to break the media barrier, to create new combat strategies as well as demonstrations, riots, times of conflict with the police. This is not to say that one thing is right and another is wrong, but that we need to use every possible tool to achieve victory.

Surely the fight will continue! Today we promised before the coffin of the comrade killed by the police that the fight will go on.

This refers to the decree 883 of the government of Lenin Moreno and its economic package, in Spanish the expression is used to give a negative meaning ↩

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helshades · 6 years ago

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By Adam Nossiter

Dec. 2, 2018

GUÉRET, France — At the bare bottom of Florian Dou’s shopping cart at the discount supermarket, there was a packet of $6 sausages and not much else. It was the end of last week, and the end of last month. At that point, “my salary and my wife’s have been gone for 10 days,” he lamented.

How to survive those days between when the money runs out and when his paycheck arrives for his work as a warehouse handler has become a monthly challenge. The same is true for so many others in Guéret, a grim provincial town in south-central France. And it has made Mr. Dou angry.

So he used what money he had left and drove 250 miles to join the fiery protests on Saturday in Paris, where the police moved in with tear gas, water cannon and rubber bullets.

“We knew they were sent in to get rid of us,” he said the day after, “and believe me, they were not into Mr. Nice Guy.” But he vows the protesters are not going anywhere.

The “Yellow Vest” protests he is a part of present an extraordinary venting of rage and resentment by ordinary working people, aimed at the mounting inequalities that have eroded their lives. The unrest began in response to rising gas taxes and has been building in intensity over the past three weeks, peaking on Saturday.

With little organization and relying mostly on social media, they have moved spontaneously from France’s poor rural regions over the last month to the banks of the Seine, where they have now become impossible to ignore.

On Sunday, President Emmanuel Macron toured the graffiti-scrawled monuments of the capital and the damage along some of the richest shopping streets in Europe. All around France, the protests left three dead and more than 260 wounded, with more than 400 arrested. Mr. Macron convened a crisis cabinet meeting, weighing whether to impose a state of emergency.

Mr. Macron has previously insisted that, unlike past French governments, he will not back down in the face of popular resistance to reforms like a loosening of labor laws. It’s a harder line than many other western European countries have taken.

The protesters ridicule him as a president of the rich and say he is trying to balance his budgets on their backs as he remains deaf to their concerns.

But if it was the shattered glass and burned cars along Rue de Rivoli or Boulevard Haussmann in Paris that finally got Mr. Macron’s attention, the movement — named for the roadside safety vests worn by demonstrators — has in fact welled up from silent towns like Guéret, an administrative center of 13,000 people, lost in the small valleys of central France.

Far from any big city, it sits in one of the poorest departments of France, where the public hospital is the biggest employer. The cafe in the main square is empty by midafternoon. The hulks of burned-out cars dot the moribund train station’s tiny parking lot, abandoned by citizens too poor to maintain them.

In places like these, a quiet fear gnaws at households: What happens when the money runs out around the 20th? What do I put in the refrigerator with nothing left in the account and the electricity bill to pay? Which meal should I skip today? How do I tell my wife again there is no going out this weekend?

The stories of Mr. Dou’s neighbors who also joined the protests were much like his own. Inside Laetitia Depourtoux’s freezer were hunks of frozen meat, a twice-a-year gift from her farmer-father, and the six-member family’s meat ration.

On these cold nights, Joel Decoux’s oven burned the wood he chopped himself because he can’t afford gas for heating.

It is not deep poverty, but ever-present unease in the small cities, towns and villages over what is becoming known as “the other France,” away from the glitzy Parisian boulevards that were the scene of rioting this weekend.

“We live with stress,” said Fabrice Girardin, 46, a former carpet-layer who now looks after other people’s pets to get by. “Every month, at the end of the month, we say, ‘Will there be enough to eat?’ ”

Since the acidic portrait of Guéret in novels by a famous native son, the anti-Semitic 20th-century writer Marcel Jouhandeau, the town is used to being mocked as the epitome of provincial backwardness.

The Yellow Vest protesters, the descendants of those who inspired Jouhandeau’s characters, can now be found waiting at the road blocks as you come into town — truck and school-bus drivers, nurses, out-of-work electricians, housewives, warehouse handlers, part-time civil servants and construction workers on disability aid.

On cold nights the oven of Joel Decoux, left, and his wife Roselyne, center, burned the wood he chopped himself because he can’t afford gas for heating.

Mr. Dou — who says his 9-year-old son has never been on vacation and his gross salary of 1,300 euros a month, about $1,475, “disappears immediately in the bills” — was among them. There is little left after high taxes and costly utilities such as electricity.

To protest, he and the other protesters wait at night in the middle of the roundabouts, in the rain and cold and mud under makeshift tarpaulin shelters and tents in the darkness of early morning. “The People’s Élysée” is scrawled on one, mocking Mr. Macron’s Élysée Palace, seat of the presidency. “Macron, he’s with the bosses, Macron, he’s against the people,” a singer intoned in a reggaelike jingle from the radio.

Mr. Dou said he had joined the movement from the beginning, and he was an assiduous presence over several days last week on the traffic circles at Guéret. He was there at 11 p.m. on a rainy Thursday, after putting in several hours that morning, and he was there the next day as well.

“We don’t even need the social networks anymore,” he said.

His motivation, he said, was to “recover the country’s priorities. The values of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.” The gas tax “was what set it all off.”

Now, he felt that the Yellow Vest protesters really have the government on the run.

“They don’t know what to do. They’re really in a panic.”

Virtually every car that passes honks in sympathy. But the protesters know that their shouts grow faint over the long distance to real power in Paris, and that is what has propelled them to move their demonstrations there.

By Friday, Mr. Dou was preparing to make the drive in a shared car up to Paris: checking in with his comrades at the traffic circle and buying last-minute supplies — including solution to protect his eyes from tear gas.

Yoann Decoux, an out-of-work electrical lineman in his 30s who was presented by Guéret’s Yellow Vest protesters as their spokesman, had been arrested in Paris the week before.

“I’ve never been in political demonstrations before,” he said. “But we said, enough’s enough.”

“They don’t even know how we get by with our tiny little salaries,” he said. “But we are humans too, for God’s sake!” He was getting by with vegetables and help from his part-time farmer-father.

None of the Guéret protesters expressed allegiance to any politician: Most said politics disgusted them.

“They are all the same,” Mr. Dou said.

When Guéret’s mayor, Michel Vergnier, a veteran Socialist with decades of connections in Paris, went to see the protesters, they were not welcoming.

“There’s a rejection of politicians,” Mr. Vergnier said. “They are outside all political and union organizations.”

Inside Laetitia Depourtoux’s freezer were hunks of frozen meat, a twice-a-year gift from her farmer-father, and the six-member family’s meat ration.

It was the end of the month. To a man and woman the Yellow Vest protesters of Guéret said their accounts were tapped out.

“Right now, I’m at zero,” Mr. Girardin said. His wife had done the shopping with 40 euros the day before, a Wednesday. Now there was nothing left to get them through the weekend.

“You get to the end of the month, there’s nothing,” he said.

That is why Mr. Macron’s plans to raise the gasoline tax, modest an increment as it may seem, was the final straw for so many, the spark that finally set off a seething rage that has been building for years.

There was no gas in his car, said Mr. Girardin, a carpet-layer who quit a job with a stagnant 1,200-euro a month salary to strike out on his own. But he was no better off now.

“Once we’ve finished paying all of our bills, there’s no money left.”

Tonight’s meal: noodles, with maybe a little ground beef. “I’d like to be able to take my wife to the restaurant from time to time, but I can’t,” Mr. Girardin said. Weighed down by financial stress, she had gone into a depression. “She’s totally closed in on herself,” he said.

Up the road the next morning, Ms. Depourtoux, a night-shift nurse at the hospital, was up at 6:30 a.m. with her husband, Olivier, an optician, to see their three daughters off to school in the darkness. Their modest house at a country intersection at the edge of town was pleasant but not spacious.

Guéret is located in the Creuse, the second poorest department in France.

She gently mocked him because “there is never any gas in your car.” With four children and many bills, their money — 1,800 euros a month for her, 1,500 for him — was “very quickly gone,” Mr. Depourtoux said.

The bank refused to lend them any more money. Both had joined the Yellow Vests, and both had gone to Paris the preceding weekend to demonstrate. “As long as it continues, we are with it,” he said.

“We live, but we’ve got to be careful. We can’t go to the restaurant. All the little pleasures of life are gone,” Mr. Depourtoux said. His parents, after a lifetime of work, were reduced to penury: his father in a nursing home and his mother forced to accept meals from charity.

She fills the freezer with deep-discount frozen food from the hard discounter Lidl. They wait to get paid to fill up the car and to do the shopping.

“We just don’t make it to the end of the month,” said Elodie Marton, a mother of four who had joined the protesters at the demonstration outside town. “I’ve got 10 euros left,” she said, as a dozen others tried to get themselves warm around an iron-barrel fire.

“Luckily we’ve got some animals at the house” — chickens, ducks — “and we keep them for the end of the month,” she said. “It sounds brutal, but my priority is the children,” she said. “We’re fed up and we’re angry!’ shouted her husband, Thomas Schwint, a cement hauler on a temporary 1,200-euro contract.

To a man and woman the Guéret protesters expressed fury at the government, and determination to keep going.

“Their response has poisoned the situation even more,” Mr. Depourtoux said. “The citizens have asked for lower taxes, and they’re saying, ‘Ecology,’” he said in a reference to Mr. Macron’s speech of last week where he outlined France’s plans to transition from fossil-based fuels to renewable energy.

At the roundabout, Laurent Aufrere, a truck driver, was deciding which of that day’s meals to skip.

“If I stop rolling, I die. This is not nothing,” Mr. Aufrere said. “What’s happening right now is a citizen uprising.”

#france #politics #riots in france #du rififi en macronnie #emmanuel macron #neoliberalism #civil unrest #civil disobedience #vive la république

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eryiss · 7 years ago

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Gambler’s Luck : Chapter Eight

Summary: A drunken night at a bar; that’s how it always starts. A few shots, some self loathing and a decision you would never make when sober. But for Laxus Dreyar, the morning after doesn’t include regret, copious amounts of aspirin and a stranger in his bed. For he only made one drunken decision, becoming the personal driver for professional gambler - Freed Justine. [Fraxus Multi-Chap]

You can read it on FanFiction, Archive of Our Own or under the cut. You can also see the chapter list here. Hope you enjoy ^.^

Chapter Eight – The Gym

"I should be in there for an hour or so." Freed said, leaning on the passenger side door of his car. "If it ends up taking longer than that, I'll text you."

Laxus nodded as he looked towards his boss, still sitting in the car. The trip from Freed's garage to the parking lot of his client's building had been uneventful, the traffic was relatively clear and the route easy to memorise. It had, however, been a little quiet. Laxus was trying, and failing, to keep his mind off the earlier revelation about his new boss, and Freed didn't seem to mind the lack of conversation; Laxus had to wonder if he had realised the slight, and hopefully subtle, change in Laxus' mood as they drove.

"I should go. As I mentioned, my client is incredibly insistent on punctuality." Freed continued. "I hope the time isn't too tedious. I believe there's a Starbucks nearby, if you get bored or need something to eat or drink."

"Thanks. Might check it out." Laxus gave another nod. "Good luck with your client."

"Thank you. I'll see you in a little while then."

"See ya."

After Laxus spoke, Freed closed the door and walked towards the building. Laxus watched as his boss walked through inside and was greeted by the doorman, deflating slightly and leaning against the back of his seat. He hadn't noticed the tension that had formed in his shoulders, but as his boss walked away he felt is dissipate. His eyes closed and he reached for the volume controls of the car, allowing himself to relax in the quietness of the vehicle as he ran a hand through his slicked back hair. He had no intentions of leaving the car while he waited, so decided that he might as well get comfortable and adjust the seat, reclining it slightly.

His reasons for not wanting to leave the car was irrational. Simply put, it was the first time he had been left in charge of Freed's car and, with his luck, the moment it was out of sight it would get scratched or vandalised in some way. If he had taken a moment to think about it, he would have realised people didn't vandalise cars parked in a nearly empty parking-lot with CCTV at every entrance. But, at that moment, rationality was the last thing on his mind.

The possibility of him having seen Freed before what he had assumed was their first meeting at Mira's bar – and that he had found him attractive no less – had certainly thrown him through a loop. And the more he thought about it, the worse the implications of this fact were.

"Fucking hell." He whispered to himself. "Things are always complicated with you, huh Dreyar?"

As he adjusted the air vents in the car, so that they were pointed at his face, he sighed loudly and let his mind wonder. So what if there was a chance that he had found a guy who might have been Freed attractive a couple years ago? That didn't mean anything, and it certainly didn't mean he found Freed attractive now. The fact he wasn't sure if the guy was Freed or not backed that up; so if it turned out the guy at the gym was Freed, he looked different enough for the confusion to occur.

Even if the reasoning was relatively strong, he still had doubts.

Hypothetically, if he did end up finding Freed attractive again, that wasn't exactly illegal. He wasn't some bratty teenager who couldn't control himself, he was an adult who knew better than to act out of impulse. Yes, it might be a little awkward at the start, but he could deal with that.

Still, it had probably just a lust thing. At that time, he was a little younger, his sex drive was the same as every other arrogant twenty-year-old and that coupled with the then recent revelation of his attraction to both genders, meant that he was just, well, interested in everything and everyone. His actual opinions of the guy at the gym might have just been a casual interest, perhaps a fleeting glance where he thought the guy was pretty good looking, just like the thought process of practically everyone that age. He'd probably thought the same thing every time he'd passed a good-looking person in the street or at a mall or something, this one simply had stuck out because of the circumstances.

He was still doubting himself.

First of all, the gym guy wasn't just some random passer by who had caught his eye. Laxus had seen him a couple of times and always thought he was attractive. Secondly, the association with Freed being the guy in the gym, being the guy who had interested him years prior, was instant. There had been no doubt they might be the same person, nor slow realisation. And as for it being a simple lust thing, he was simply just lying to himself.

As he thought back to the occasional encounters with the gym guy, he remembered a time he had nearly talked to him. The moment that thought crossed his mind, Laxus groaned. He was now sure it was Freed, for one simple fact.

Freed was a friend of Mirajane's, so probably knew her brother as well. The same brother that used to spot for Laxus when they were at the gym together. The same brother who Laxus had seen working out with the gym guy when he and the guy were there together. The same brother who had offered Laxus the gym guy's number. Elfman Strauss.

Laxus sighed, running a hand over his face as he thought back to that very moment.

Muscles straining under a shirt specifically worn for a workout, Laxus made a conscious effort to control his breathing. His torso rocked back and forward as he pumped both of his arms, sweat covering his face at the shockingly intensive workout. The rowing machine was rarely empty – Laxus assumed because people saw it was a challenge and wanted to prove themselves capable – so the blond was obviously going to jump at the chance when its availability coincided with the day he set aside for building up the muscles in his arms.

The twenty-one-year old barely ever got to work out in the middle of the day after getting his new job, and he missed it. The only reason he could do it then was because his work-union was on strike, ironically about unfair work hours. Laxus wasn't going to join the pointless protest at Magnolia city hall, instead he decided to enjoy his day off and get an extra intense workout that he hardly had time to do.

It had been the correct choice, by all accounts. Not only did he get full access to the rowing machine on his arm-day, but half way though his workout two people had entered the gym and set up directly opposite him. The first man was someone Laxus knew very well, a teenage bodybuilder whose usual workout happened to occur at the same time as Laxus' had; Elfman Strauss. When Laxus had started out at the gym, being a fairly weedy teenager, Elfman had helped him out more than he cared to admit. The two had happened to be working out beside each other and, when Elfman had seen Laxus using the machine he was on incorrectly, he had offered his assistance. Not only had he spotted for him, allowing him to push himself with the weightlifting more than if he were alone, he had helped out with advice on his diet and how to maintain a strong physique. Laxus wasn't as large as Elfman, and had no plans of being so, but there was no doubt Elfman was responsible for the muscular physique the blonde was sporting.

The other man was also somewhat familiar to Laxus. A younger guy with shoulder length hair a weirdly brown and green shade. Laxus had only seen him on the rare occurrences he could go to the gym in the middle of the day, and he'd always caught his eye. Laxus couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was, but he found the guy to be pretty good looking. So, whenever they worked out at the same time, Laxus had to stop himself form glancing towards him.

Despite recognizing them both, he had never seen them together. He suspected Elfman was doing what he did for Laxus with the other guy. Laxus hoped he wasn't going to make the guy a bodybuilder, the blonde didn't know if it would suit him. Although, from the occasional glances he got at the guys biceps, he wasn't exactly slender, so maybe he could pull it off. Not that it was any of Laxus' actual concern, given that the guy was someone he barely saw, and he could get as buff as he wanted.

The two men had walked to a weightlifting area, the bench almost completely opposite the rowing machine. Laxus tried not to stare as the guy lied with his back and Elfman slid weights onto a bar suspended on its holders; he didn't want to weird the guy out.

For a considerable while, he had managed to avoid looking like a total creep. He had turned his music up and slid the rowing machine to a higher level of resistance, meaning he could focus both on the music beating through his earphones and the strenuous exercise that he was forcing himself through. The damn rowing machine really had earned its infamy, the blonde's arms felt like they were burning. But, eventually, his plan failed when he glanced up and saw the other guy mid workout.

"Damn." He mumbled to himself. "Definitely not skinny."

Going against his own good sense, he looked up and got a better view of the man as his impressive looking muscles flexed. His barbell seemed to have some pretty heavy weights on it, but the guy was dealing with them with ease. Well, with as much ease as you could get when lifting with Elfman; the bodybuilder never gave Laxus a break. From where he sat, the blonde could see the mans biceps strain and flex as his arms stretched out as high as they could go, before slowly curling back as he lowered the bar to his chest.

He looked down to his own lap again, trying to focus on his workout. He couldn't help but glance back, this time taking in the man's full appearance rather than just his arms. He was good looking, which confused Laxus a little. People rarely actually looked good when they worked out – sweat, red faces and aching bodies weren't attractive, at all – and yet the guy was still sort of handsome. It was his mannerisms perhaps; other than his arms, his body was rigidly still. And the movements of his arms were fluid, elegant even. The guy almost managed to look like he was going through a real-life version of the fake workouts that were forced into crappy rom-coms to make sexual tension. Only he actually looked like he was doing exercise, instead of just having been squirted with water and placed on a treadmill.

As he wondered if those kinds of thoughts were inappropriate, the music on his phone came to an abrupt stop and was replaced by a loud bleeping. It took him a few moments to realise that it was the alarm telling him his workout was over. When he did realise it, he removed his headphones, climbed out from the rowing machine and began to walk to the locker room.

"Elf." He greeted with a nod as he walked past, the larger man looking up.

"Hey man." Elfman nodded back, before looking back to the guy who continued to bench-press. "Sorry I can't talk out now. He won't need me for much longer. I'll catch up with you in the locker room, okay?

"Sure. See you in there then."

With a split-second glance at the other guy, Laxus began to walk away. He wiped his face with the towel resting around his shoulders, pushing open the door and entering the locker room that was thankfully empty. He was used to it being filled with a load of annoying city guys who had just got off work and were taking a workout before they went home. He didn't exactly care about the privacy issues, but hearing them make stupid jokes and laugh obnoxiously loud about them grated on his nerves, so he certainly didn't miss them.

He walked to his locker and sat at the bench before it, leaning his back against the cool metal and enjoying the feeling. He reached for his bottle of water and gulped some down, closing his eyes as he began to wind himself down from the workout.

Eyes closed, he was aware of the door opening and someone walking into the locker room. True to his word, Elfman really hadn't needed to stay with the guy much longer, as Laxus must have only been in there five minutes or so before Elfman had joined him. The blonde looked towards him as Elfman walked in, going to his own locker a little further down the room.

Laxus stood up and opened his locker, placing his phone and water bottle in it. He looked towards Elfman, removing his shirt and stuffing it into the lower shelf of the locker, on top of the sealed gym bag that contained his casual clothes.

"Your friend not with ya?" He said as he sifted through his bag to find another, cleaner towel.

"He's in the pool. Doing a warm down kinda thing, uses the other locker room 'cause it's closer." Elfman explained as he opened his own locker, squirting cold water over his face. "You're not usually here in the middle of the day. You been holding out on me man?"

"Day off. Union shit; thought I might as well make the most of it." Laxus removed his undershirt, the sweat making it stick to him slightly. "And you're one to talk about coming here more than you say. Guess it makes sense that you come here more often than me, must be a bitch keeping your body up."

Elfman laughed heartily at that, shrugging as he also sat at the bench and leant against the wall of lockers to cool himself down. Laxus decided to do the same with his now bare back. He was going to have a quick shower before he left, but he didn't want to leave Elfman mid conversation so decided to stop preparing for it now; sitting in a towel or his boxers while talking would be weird. It might have also made 'straight-as-an-arrow' Elfman uncomfortable, he had only recently found out that Laxus was bi.

Did he have to start thinking about making guys uncomfortable now he was out? It wasn't like Elfman was a homophobe, or some asshole who would assume Laxus would be into him just because he liked guys. Honestly, Elfman probably wouldn't even notice if Laxus sat with his balls hanging loose, he was a good guy like that, but that didn't change anything. Laxus still wasn't going to remove any more of his clothes as they talked, if only because his arms were still aching like hell and he would welcome any break that was presented to him.

"So, who's the guy? I've seen him here a couple times, didn't know you knew him?" Laxus continued.

"A friend from school, kinda. He graduated last year with Mira, she was closer to him really." Elfman explained, Laxus glad to know he had graduated. He hadn't been creeping over an underaged guy, at least. "Didn't know he worked out here until a couple weeks ago, he's always here at this time and I can only work out after school hours most of the time, so I never saw him."

"Sure." Laxus nodded. "Nice of you to help him out. Looks like he doesn't need it as much as I did."

Elfman chuckled a little. Laxus could only assume the man was thinking back to their first meeting, Laxus still being a skinny and awkward teenager at that time. He certainly must have been a piece of work for Elfman, he hardly knew how to use any of the machines other than the treadmill and the standing bike. Looking back, Laxus had to cringe a little. He needed help from a fifteen-year-old and acted like a little child when the workout got a little too intense for him. The results of Elfman's persistence was worth it, however.

Laxus rested his head on the lockers, feeling his arms relax slightly. He watched as Elfman picked out a towel and removed his shirt. The white haired guy didn't seem at all bothered by Laxus looking at him, which made Laxus relax a little. So Elfman definitely wasn't going to treat him differently because he was bi, just like he expected.

"He's doing me a favour really." Elfman said as he rubbed his torso with a towel. "I'm graduating pretty soon and I ain't getting going to college, can't deal with the debt. So, I need to get a job and I wanna work here as a trainer. Talked to the manager about how to do it and he said I need a little experience, so I asked if I could get a kind of trial thing set up where I train a friend and have that as my experience."

"So when you found out your friend worked out here, you asked him if he could help?" Laxus finished, Elfman nodding.

"Yeah. He's a good man. I only get to work with him at weekends until I graduate, though." Elfman said as he moved his hair from his eyes, it stuck to his sweating forehead. "Why the interest?"

At the question, Laxus looked forward and into the empty shower cubicle at the other side of the locker room. He suspected that, even though Elfman was evidently fine with Laxus' sexuality, he doubted he would appreciate the knowledge that the blonde had been checking his friend out every time they'd been in the same room. Phrasing it like that made it sound so much worse that it actually was.

He had given a passive response, something sarcastic about how friends not being able to make casual conversation with other friends any more. The blonde had decided that it was better to brush off the topic than to address it, he wasn't in the mood to lie. And he wasn't great at it, either.

As he was looking so intently at the shower cubicle, he missed the expression of amusement on the other man's face, who pretty much knew exactly why Laxus was interested in his friend. The small glance as Laxus had left the gym combined with pretty obvious avoidance of the topic left the conclusion obvious. Elfman decided to let it linger for a few moments, removing his workout shorts and placing them with his shirt in his locker. After a while, he spoke again.

"You want his number, man?"

Laxus' pupils dilated slightly as he looked towards Elfman. In response, he feigned innocence. "Why would I want his number?"

"You think he's hot." Elfman replied without any tact. "He's a good guy, Laxus, he wont mind. You'd probably be pretty good together as well. I don't know if he likes guys or not, but there's no point in moping around and letting it stop you from asking him out."

"I don't find him hot." Laxus replied, completely pointlessly. With a look from Elfman, he sighed. "Thanks, but no. If I'm gonna date someone, I ain't starting it with a crappy text or whatever."

To his credit, Elfman didn't push the issue further and allowed Laxus to think. The blonde leant against the locker again, knowing it was the right decision not to take the number. Not only did he not want to start a romance over the phone, what could he say: 'Hey. I've been looking at you when you work out and think you're hot. I've got your number off a friend who I happen to know. Lets date.' It was just the worse possible way to approach the situation. He was appreciative of the offer, though.

Besides, he hardly knew the guy. They'd never spoken to each other; the guy probably didn't know he existed. All Laxus knew of his personality was that Elfman and Mirajane liked him and that he was pretty polite to servers; he'd seen that when he had been to the juice bar beside the Leg-Press Laxus was on. Granted, that was nothing bad and the Strauss family were picky with who they liked, but it wasn't enough to start a relationship on.

And, even though he wouldn't broadcast the fact, Laxus was a big believer in fate. Not just fate; he also believed in karma, luck and destiny. Not in a religious way, nor in a way that lead him to read horoscopes or buy gemstones because of their 'energies'. Simply put, he thought people got what they deserved in the end. And, if for some weird and coincidental reason, fate dictated he was meant to end up with the random guy from the gym then it would happen eventually. He just needed to wait for that time to happen.

"I appreciate it, though." Laxus continued, standing up. "I'm gonna hit the showers, can't sit here all day."

Elfman nodded. Laxus stood up and began to remove his shorts and the thermal tights he wore under them. He rolled his eyes as he caught Elfman spraying himself with deodorant; the larger man refused to shower in the gym, he claimed that the pressure was too weak and the water was never warm enough. They were fair enough complaints and Laxus agreed with them, but to hear them come from a guy who always talked about manliness, it amused the blonde.

Once Laxus had removed all his clothes and tied a towel around his waist, he routed through his bag and picked out a small tub of shower-soap and shampoo. He walked to the cubicle and opened the door, going to walk in and close it before Elfman spoke up.

"I'll probably be gone by the time you're out. It was nice talking to you without a weight between us." Elfman said as he put his shirt on. "You'll be here Monday evening, right? Want me to spot for you again?"

"Yeah. Thanks, appreciate it." Laxus nodded as he turned the water on and closed the door. "See ya, Elf."

Leaning back against the cars seat with the air conditioning aimed directly at his face, he groaned loudly. He had hoped thinking back to the near-acquisition of the guy's number would help calm the situation, but it just made it more complicated.

The guy was defiantly Freed, that was impossible to deny. He looked like Freed, both in the description Freed had given him about how he looked when he was younger and in his face; he'd managed to maintain some pretty good cheekbones. And the fact he was a friend of the Strauss' but closer to Mirajane attributed to the idea it was Freed, they were about the same age and Mirajane had said that they were friends from school.

So, given Laxus was now sure the guy was Freed, that meant that Laxus had at least at one point found him attractive. More than that, he'd considered dating him or getting his number off Elfman. He hadn't just had a fleeting glance and found him good looking, he'd considered dating him.

"Shit." He groaned.

But that didn't mean he was into the guy now. Five years had passed since then and he was much more mature than before; at that point he would probably date anyone who smiled at him. And anyway, even when he was younger he'd concluded he didn't know enough about the guy to have an actual relationship with him. He'd gotten a stupid crush on a guy because he was polite to someone at a juice bar that managed to look relatively handsome as he worked out.

The same guy he was now working for, who shared a similar taste of music with him, who he'd eaten with twice and enjoyed the company both times. Hell, he had even complimented the man on keeping his damn cheekbones a moment ago.

It wasn't just his cheekbones that Laxus remembered from Freed, he'd also maintained the sense of elegance he had. Unintentionally, Laxus had been watching Freed as he moved and had concluded that he did everything with a sense of purpose. There was no waste of energy in the slightest inconsequential movement, just like when he was bench pressing. He was still polite to people as well, which was even more impressive now that Freed was wealthy enough to get away with being rude if he wanted. But, just like he had been polite to the guy at the juice bar, Freed had nodded to the doorman as he walked into the building.

"For fucks sake." He groaned to himself. "You spend like eight years in a job you hate. Finally get a good one and now you wanna get with the boss?"

Did he though? Just because his boss was good looking, and he had traits Laxus liked, it didn't mean he wanted to date the guy. Freed could just be a guy he worked with who was hot. Most of his friends were hot, in some way or another, and he wouldn't have been friends with them if they didn't have qualities he liked. Freed was just another person he knew that happened to be good looking, that was it.

It was hard to just to accept that, though. Freed wasn't the same as everyone else. Laxus had never had such a confusing internal disagreement about the feelings for his other friends. He'd never thought about fate bringing him and a friend back together again.

Which, with another groan, made him realise fate had indeed brought them together again.

Eventually, he decided he needed to stop worrying about it. With the amount of internalised debate, it was clear that he knew nothing about his real feelings towards the situation. He knew nothing about his feelings of Freed. So, like he had five years prior, he decided that he wouldn't let that bother him and he would instead leave what he didn't know up to fate.

He did know one thing, though. When his shift ended, he needed a massive fucking drink.

Hi. Still managing to get things done in two weeks, and I've already got the next chapter drafted out, so I should be able to keep to schedule. But I do have some exams coming up, so excuse me if I slip up. I'll try not to, but you never know what'll happen. I'm also trying to participate in the Raijinshuu Week this year, which might take up some time.

As always, thank you so much for any comments and kudos you leave. They mean so much.

Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading. ^.^

#fraxus #freed justine #Laxus Dreyar #Ft: Gamblers Luck #freed x laxus #fanfic #fairy tail

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eyecache · 4 years ago

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K. Muthukumar’s Letter

Below is a four-page statement by K. Muthukumar (1982-2009) in protest against governmental inaction in the Sri Lankan Tamil war-genocide, before his self-immolation. Translation originally from TamilNet.

Dear hardworking Tamil people...

Va'nakkam! I am sorry at having to meet you at this juncture when you are hurrying to work. But there is no other option. My name is Muthukumar. I am a journalist and an assistant director. Right now, I am working in a Chennai-based newspaper. I am also one like you. I am just another average person who has been reading newspapers and websites of how fellow Tamils are daily being killed, and like you I am unable to eat, unable to sleep, unable to sleep and unable to even think. While his ancient land of Tamils lets anyone coming here, like the Seths, to flourish, our own blood, the Tamils in Eelam are dying. When we lend our voices to say the killings should be stopped, Indian imperialism maintains a stony silence and does not give out any reply. If India's war is really a justifiable one, they can wage it openly... Why should they do it stealthily?

The Indian ruling class is eager to annihilate a very large population by using the hollow excuse of Rajiv Gandhi's assassination in order to satisfy the vengeful and selfish goals of a few individuals. The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam were not the only ones charged with the murder of Rajiv Gandhi. The Jain Commission Report held that the people of Tamil Nadu were also guilty of this murder. If so, are you also the murderers who killed Rajiv Gandhi?

They say the British killed people in Jallianwallahbagh, but what are they doing in Mullaiththeevu and Vanni? Look at the children being killed there. Aren't you reminded of your children? Look at the women being raped? Don't you have a sister in that age? When Rajiv Gandhi was killed why where frontline leaders of the Congress not with him? Why did Jayalalithaa, an alliance partner, not go to take part in such a massive rally that Rajiv took part in? Such questions are not being raised, and they are not being answered by them either. People, please think. Are they your leaders? What is the guarantee that these people--who indulge in politics through their money and muscle power--will not target us tomorrow? If they turn against tomorrow, who will be on our side?

Kalaignar [Karunanidhi]? Even at that point of time, he will make an announcement that the members of parliament will resign. Then, he will understand (?!) the Central Government. Then, he will once again request for a right decision, and pass a resolution in the Legislative Assembly--like actor Vadivel's comedy in the film Winner where he claims that no one has touched him until a particular month, a particular week, a particular time. People! A paper will not achieve anything! Now, the Election-time Tamil Kalaignar, who wants to be the leader of the worldwide Tamils and who desires to transfer all the money in Tamil Nadu to the coffers of his family, has hidden himself in the hospital afraid of bearing the brunt of people's anger. This paper tiger staged such major fights in order to get the required cabinet portfolios for his ministers, but truthfully, what has he done for Tamil or for the Tamils? He has himself admitted once, "Will the honey-gatherer remain without licking the back of his hand?" If we look at his puppet-shows, it looks as if he has done a lot of licking...

Law college students who have entered the field through your hunger strike...

As a fellow Tamil, I wish you all success. I also regret that I am unable to join you. Not only the Eelam Tamils problem, but even the protests seeking water for Cauvery, any protest in support of Tamil Nadu, you, and lawyers, are the first ones to fight. Even this time, only these two sections were the first to voice their protest even four months back. I have a suspicion that only in order to destroy your Tamil feeling, the Indian intelligence would have systematically instigated caste-feelings among you and paved the way for the skirmish that occured at Ambedkar law college. It is the caste of students that takes the initiative in people's revolutionary struggles all over the world. Likewise, even in Tamil Nadu, an earlier generation of students in similar circumstances took to the streets before the Indian repulic day and chased away national parties, including the Congress from the Tamil land.

So, an historically important juncture has again reached your hands. Normally, such things don't take place in world history. Like it happened last time, don't let selfish people steal the fruits of your labour. The DMK that came to power riding high on the efforts of your struggle, first made a law that students should not take part in politics. After capturing power, it blunted Tamil feelings, and turned the entire Tamil population into a petitioning tribe. Smash that tradition. Don't believe anybody who asks you to submit a petition. This is the juncture when we should burn the differences of caste and religion between us. Throw away your fasting and enter the field. In reality, the Indian military's role in Sri Lanka is not just against the Tamils. It is against all Indians. They tried the sexual techniques they learnt from Sinhalese soldiers with innocent Assamese women! They learnt the strategies of how to crush the Tamil Tigers from the Sinhalese and they applied it to crush the fighters in the north-eastern states! As if this were not enough, what do we learn from the fact that the Indian and Sri Lankan peacekeeping forces were deported from Haiti because of sexual misdemeanour? That the India-Sri Lanka alliance is not an ideological alliance, but a sexual one! So, because the alliance between the Indian and Sri Lankan armies is against the fundamental human rights of the Indian people, try to rally students and democratic organizations towards your cause on a national level.

It is possible for people to do all this. However, they lack the right leadership. Make leaders from among yourselves. Change this protest from law college students, to students of all colleges. Let your frenzy and people's fury change the history of Tamil Nadu. Thrash and throw away muscle power, money power and power craze. This is possible only by you. "We are Tamil students, we are the life of Tamil Nadu. If Tamils are allowed peace, we will read magazines. Otherwise, we will surge like volacanoes." Convert these lines of poet Kasi Anandan into your intellectual weapon. The police force will try to lay my body to rest. Don't allow them to do that. Capture my dead body, don't bury it, and use it as a trump card to sharpen your struggle. Students of the Tamil Nadu medical colleges who will treat me, or conduct my post-mortem, I should have done some virtuous deed to be cut at your hands. Because, while upper-caste medical students in the rest of India were fighting against reservation, you were standing alone and fighting in support of reservation in medical education. What you do to me can remain aside. What are you going to do for our brothers, the Eelam Tamils, from your side?

Tamil Eelam is not the need of Tamil Eelam alone, it is the need of Tamil Nadu also. Because of the fishermen of Rameswaram. There are laws in the world to protect goats and cows.

But, are the Tamils of Rameswaram and the Tamils of Eelam lower than cows and goats? The Indian media carries on a systematic campaign that Tamil fishermen who cross [maritime] boundaries are attacked because of the suspicion that they might be Tamil Tigers. Don't they ever read newspapers? Often, Taiwanese fishermen are arrested at Chennai because they lost their way at sea. If it is possible for people from Taiwan, which is thousands of kilometers away to lose their way, can't they believe the fact that the Tamil fisherman from Rameswaram, which is just 12 miles away from Lanka strays away from his route?

Brothers of other states who are living in Tamil Nadu...

You will have known from experience that Tamil Nadu is the only state where you can enjoy greater peace and protection when compared even with your home-state. Today, we are facing a major crisis. Our government is killing our brothers in Eelam by using our name, our Indian identity. The Indian government wants us to be isolated in this struggle. We don't want that to happen. So, please tell the Central Government that you too support our brothers who are fighting. It is my opinion that this will not only strengthen the hands of your leaders who are part of the Government at the Center, but is will also prevent the danger of a Navnirman Sena, or a Sena from being formed within Tamil Nadu in the future.

Youth belonging to the Tamil Nadu Police Force...

I have great respect for you. Irrespective of what other people did for the sake of Tamil, you are making Tamil live by using Tamil words in everyday contexts, such as calling employees as 'ayya'. I believe that you would have joined the police force with noble intentions of serving the people and weeding out anti-social elements. But, does the ruling class allow you to do that? By allowing you to commit minor mistakes, the ruling class hides its major crimes. It converts you into its trained henchmen, and makes you fight against the same people whom you wanted to serve. It is the Tamil Nadu police who guard Delhi's Tihar Jail. One of the oldest police forces in India, the Tamil Nadu police is one of the very best. But, are you given that respect by the Indian government? When Union Minister Chidambaram returned to New Delhi following his Chennai visit, Central Government security agencies have refused to handover his security arrangements at the Chennai airport to you. When asked why, they have derided your capabilities and said that they are aware of how you protected Rajiv Gandhi. While it is true that the Tamil Nadu police could not save the life of Rajiv Gandhi, it is equally true that the majority of those who died with him were only innocent policemen. Your dedication is unquestionable. But it was later exposed that this Indian intelligence had been careless even after coming to know that there were threats to Rajiv's life... Even if you have been against innocent people all this while, you are one of the pride of Tamil Nadu. At this historical juncture, only if you stand on the side of the people, you can regain the respect that you have lost among the people. Just once try to dedicate yourself to the fellow Tamils. They will carry you in golden plates. The feeling of gratitude among Tamil people is immeasurable. Because somebody spent his own money and built a dam, the Tamils on the Mullai river in Madurai built a temple and name their children after that man. All that you have to do is, when Tamil Nadu is boiling, you should refuse to cooperate with the Central Government officials, and you should reveal to the Tamil people who are the ones working for R.A.W and CBI. Do at least this. The people will take care of the rest.

People of Tamil Eelam, and Liberation Tigers....

All eyes are now in the direction of Mullaiththeevu. Tamil Nadu is also emotionally only on your side. It also wants to do something else. But what can we do? We don't have a true leader like you have... Please don't leave hope. Such a leader will emerge from Tamil Nadu only in such desperate times. Until then, strengthen the hands of the Tigers. Because the 1965 anti-Hindi agitation was placed in the hands of a few selfish people, the history of Tamil Nadu has been dragged to the stone ages. Please don't do that mistake.

Dear International Community, and our hope Obama...

We still have hope on you. But, there is no guarantee that a sovereign republic will not torture its people through ethnic discrimination. It is possible to cite instances from America's own history. After all, boxing hero Muhammed Ali said, "The little white in my community would have come only through rape..." As long as you remain silent, India will never open its mouth. Perhaps India may break its silence after all the Tamils have been killed. Until then, are you going to keep looking at India's mouth? They say that the war in Vanni is against the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam. They say that the Tigers are using the people as a human shield. If that is true, why do they come into the safety zone declared by the Government and kill people? This one evidence is enough that irrespective of whether the Tamil people are dependent on the Tigers or on the Government, they are going to be killed for the sole reason that they are Tamils. Is this not genocide? If India, Pakistan and China are supplying arms, Japan is giving economic aid, and moreover India is bullying Sri Lanka and thus killing Tamils, why don't you realize that you are also committing the same murder by your silence and your blindness? Nobody becomes a terrorist simply by taking up arms. Our Thiruvalluvar has said: Arathirke anbucar penpa ariyaar / marathirkum akthe thunai (The ignorant say that affection is appropriate only to righteousness, but it will also inspire heroism to be restrained).

Jayalalitha says that the Tigers should lay down arms--as though the problem arose because the Tigers took up arms. In reality, the Tigers were formed because of the genocide of Tamils in Eelam, and they are not the reason for it. They are not the reason, just an outcome.

As long as Indian Government's involvement was not exposed, it kept saying that this problem was an internal affair and that India could not interfere. It also said that it was aiding Sri Lanka in order to prevent China, Pakistan and America from gaining supremacy in Sri Lanka. Yet, to kill Tamils, it joins hands with Pakistan that has killed scores of Indians and was responsible for the attack on the Indian Parliament, the serial-blasts in Mumbai and the recent strikes in Mumbai. If that is so, we suspect that Pakistan's terrorism in India is a mutually agreed-upon concept created by both sides in order to exploit and squander their respective citizens. Now, they say that the LTTE is a terrorist organization, hence the war. It says they killed Rajiv Gandhi. Rajiv Gandhi is not a councillor or a district secretary. When a Sinhalese attempted to kill him in Sri Lanka, he was not interrogated. One of my demands is that the Sinhalese soldier who tried to kill him earlier must also be included in the list of the accused and he must be interrogated again. The Tigers might have been sad with Rajiv, but they wouldn't have been angry with him. Because Rajiv was Indira's son. Indira, is next to MGR among the small gods who populate Tamil Eelam.

It has been clearly exposed that India is opposed to justice form the fact that it often changes the explanations that it offers. In such a situation, Sri Lanka said, Why don't you directly interfere, the Tigers are making use of the ceasefire to stock up weapons. Chandrika, or Ranil, or Mahinda were not gods in the past, they have not even behaved as human beings. Just because they agreed to the ceasefire in view of their compulsions, how could it be argued that the fighters should lay down their arms, or that they should not involve themselves in reconstruction activies. Only by bringing about the faith and confidence that you will behave honestly and truthfully, you can make the fighters lay down their weapons. No government in the past has honoured their promises. For instance, Ranil-Karuna. But the Tigers have not used the ceasefire to simply acquire weapons, but they have created a governmental administrative structure. Is this terrorism in the eyes of the world? India is trying to ingratiate itself by saying that it is fighting in order to save the innocent Tamils. Only sophisticated weaponry and spy planes from India are going to Sri Lanka; can they show a single paracetomol tablet that has gone from India? In such a state, they want us to believe that the Sri Lankan government will provide all the amenities for the people of Eelam, and that India will support this endeavour.

Now, they are attacking the ambulance of the International Commitee of Red Cross, are they also Tamil Tigers? They killed 17 aid workers from France, were they Tamil Tigers? China's tanks, India's spy planes, Pakistan's artillery... not only these kill our people, but the silence of the International Community also kills them. When will you realize this--after a people who greatly desire justice are totally wiped away from the face of the earth? If you are interested in adding us to the list of Aborigines, Maya and Inca peoples, each day one of us will come in front of you and kill ourselves, as it comes in one of our myths.... Please leave our sisters and our children alone. We are unable to bear this. We are fighting with the sole hope that one day we will watch them laugh whole-heartedly. Even if we accept for the sake of rhetoric that the LTTE should be punished, we must realize that both India and Sri Lanka lack the moral ground to hand out any punishment.

Justice derailed is worse than justice denied.

The International Community must condemn India and force it to immediately withdraw its troops from Sri Lanka, and be prevented from helping Sri Lanka through satellites and radars. Even unimportant discussions between the Governments of India and Sri Lanka should take place through the International Community. India should publicly apologize before the people of Tamil Nadu and the people of Tamil Eelam scattered across the world.

Because the UN Secretary General Ban Ki Moon is always functioning with a bias towards his homeland China, he must not be given the power to take any decision regarding Eelam.

All the countries who have banned the LTTE based on the request from Sri Lanka should immediately revoke the ban and unconditionally release all those who have been arrested because they belong to the LTTE.

Members of the LTTE should be forgiven for their passport related mistakes, and they should be immediately released.

The industries which have been banned based on the allegation that they are connected to the Tigers, should be given the licenses once again, and they should also be adequately compensated.

Rajiv Gandhi's murder should be investigated by the InterPol and the real guilty must be exposed.

Pranab Mukherjee, Gotabhaya Rajapakse, Chandrika, Udayanakkara, Kekaliya Rambukawela, Basil Rajapakse, Mahinda and Fonseka should be subjected to narco-analysis.

While the International Community shall have the right to recognize Tamil Eelam which is going to be formed, only the people of Tamil Eelam shall have the right to decide under whose leadership it should be formed.

When the Tigers were weakened militarily, the Upcountry Tamils were targetted, and it is feared that in the future that area might be subjected to a major genocidal pogrom. So, a referendum must be conducted among the Upcountry Tamils to know whether they want to join Tamil Eelam. In this matter, the decision of the Upcountry Tamils shall be final.

Douglas Devananda, who was punished by the courts for firing at innocent Tamil people in Chennai under the influence of alcohol escaped to Sri Lanka before the period of imprisonment was completed. He must therefore be arrested and handed over to the Tamil Nadu police.

Everyone responsible for the murder of journalist Lasanta should be punished.

The Sinhalese journalists who have sought refuge in Tamil Nadu must be given adequate protection.

The Sinhalese couple who came as refugees to Tamil Nadu must be recognized as refugees, and the charges of passport-doctoring against them must be dropped.

The livelihood of families of Tamil fishermen shot dead should be secured.

With eternal love,

Your brother against injustice,

Ku. Muthukumar, Kolathur, Chennai 99.

Dear Tamil people, in the struggle against injustice our brothers and children have taken up the weapon of the intellect. I have used the weapon of life. You use the weapon of photocopying. Yes, make copies of this pamphlet and distribute it to your friends, relatives, and students and ensure that this support for this struggle becomes greater. Nan'ri.

#tamil #history #tamil nadu #sri lanka #india #protest

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kpopkrappykraftbin · 7 years ago

Text

It’s Okay to Cry

Another Jun x Oc... or Joshua x Oc... we’ll see how this goes

college turned zombie au

its past 3 a.m. someone plz send halp

Chapter 1

Word Count: 3778

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Masterlist

There are certain things you remember for the rest of your life. Your mother’s smile; your father’s hugs; the feeling of sunshine on your skin. You remember living in your happy home going day in and day out in blissed mediocrity. Studying after school Monday through Friday; meeting up with friends on the weekend. Worrying about things like your next in class presentation or whether or not your crush saw you trip on your way to class. All the stupid things you can’t wait to get over after you “grow up” and figure it all out. That’s what happens when you get out of high school, right? You figure it all out and your life magically falls into place.

In your case, it fell apart, though you were not alone.

Shortly after graduation, you enrolled into a college. It was nothing special, but it was your next step to becoming your own person and striking out on your own, even if only a bit. You had decided to live on campus to gain some independence, even if you were only a half hour away from your parents, you were still on your own kinda… right? Getting yourself sorted and learning how to use the laundromat was your first obstacle but by the end of the first semester you knew exactly which washers worked and which made your clothes smell like celery. And you almost never got lost… anymore… usually… it was a big campus.

It was an unassuming Tuesday after class that you were studying at a cafe in the student union. Typically you would return to your dorm room after class but you were in need of some caffeine and your sweet tooth couldn’t resist. Being that it was only around 1:30, the hall that was usually crowded with ping-pong players and sports game watchers was empty, the wide flat screen t.v. hooked on the wall was playing news at a barely audible volume. You settled on the small couch in front of it opening your laptop to start procrastinating your homework. It was about 10 minutes into watching pointless youtube videos that you heard something that caught your attention.

Breaking News: And here we are at Charity’s Hospital, where a family of four were admitted earlier this morning showing signs of fever and delirium. We were recently informed that one of the children attacked and bit a staff member unprovoked. So far he has shown no signs of being infected by the bite. But the family only seems to be becoming more rabid as staff try to transport them to a safer more fortified facility to monitor their health condition. We were lucky enough to catch the doctor who was attacked only a half hour ago and ask a few questions…

Thinking back to it now, that would be the way the media unknowingly revealed the first case of the disease. A glamorized version of a fatal condition. From then on, more and more people with symptoms of fever and disorientation appeared and most of them fell into the same aggressive, unreasonable savageness-- they always bit. A mother at the zoo: launched herself at her best friend effectively ripping the skin from the other woman’s jaw before being tackled by security and tazed-- a coincidence-- the media said. A father at home waiting on dinner bit the pizza delivery man hard enough to puncture muscle on the teenager’s forearm before the kid ran away-- an odd occurrence possibly related to some disease-- the media touted. A young boy at school: bit off the ear of a classmate during storytime. Trust the endangerment of small children to really get the media going. A national crisis they claimed. Well, they were almost right.

No one ever was able to figure out what happened to the biters after the incident. They were always somehow detained with no public record or eye witness accounting. The victims were usually gone within the next few days of whatever interviews a few news stations could get a hold of. With the nation’s public asking for answers and the common people doing their own research, it was soon brought to everyone’s attention that this was not a national crisis but a worldwide pandemic. People all over the world reported having seen others acting disoriented, some even said hungry one moment and rabid the next. Different nations were handling the “disease” differently. Some countries tried to treat them as patients in designated wards of hospitals, some countries kept all the infected at a camp for supposed treatment where those who were to look after them wore hazmat suits and the patients remained chained up similarly the animals they acted like; some countries, executed on sight. You can only imagine the outrage the government and hospitals faced from advocates of the sick.

“Where do they think they get off treating actual human beings like that?” ranted your roommate and friend, Leena. “They couldn’t get away with that if they treated animals the same! It’s wrong, they’re people and they have feelings. This is an infringement on their right to no cruel and unusual punishment! And they didn’t even do anything wrong! They’re sick!”

You knew Leena had strong feelings on the subject, and you could see where she was coming from. Some of the tried treatments and accommodations for the diseased weren’t exactly human health and happiness friendly. But at the same time, as far as you knew, the patients were savage and couldn’t be reasoned with. Letting them roam free would at best get other people injured-- at worst? Spread the disease. It was well intentioned people like your roommate that was causing trouble with protests about letting those with the disease out or trying to get more personalized treatment to each patient. So far none of the protests had gotten violent but you could only suppose when that would happen, and it would.

You had convinced your parents that you were sure you were just fine staying on campus amidst all the protesting chaos, and that you wouldn’t get in the middle of it. Besides a few protests a week and the new wariness around those with symptoms of something as simple as the common cold, and going without breakfast life on campus remained relatively normal. You were walking away from your last class of the day with your close classmate Joshua. A sweet, soft spoken boy with a mischievous side and a knack for somehow always taking better lecture notes than you.

He was rather good looking, but not your type, you couldn’t say he wasn’t nice to look at though. You didn’t blame his fangirls for falling for him. Your favorite part about him had been his smile. You couldn’t see it now. He always wore a face mask. The paranoia from the rabid sickness had struck deeply with your classmate. Along with the small mouth and nose cover, he always had a bottle of hand sanitizer on him and rarely touched anyone or anything he wasn’t sure was clean. It made you sad to see the changes the disease had caused to your friend without him even being directly affected. The only sign you got of his smile nowadays were tilting of his crescent shaped eyes creating a half moon eye smile.

You and Joshua managed to have a few classes together and coincidentally lived in the same living hall, so walking together wasn’t uncommon. After getting off the elevator for your floor, you and Joshua were nearly knocked down.

“Oh! Y/N! I’m so glad you’re here. I’m on my way to the protest in front of the hospital on Main and Calico, do you wanna go?” your roommate was practically vibrating with excitement, unfortunately you didn’t share the enthusiasm.

“Isn’t that the one with the biggest biters ward in the state?” Joshua uncharacteristically cut into the conversation, “ You really probably shouldn’t go, it could be dangerous if the protest gets out of hand.” he softly disputed looking at her sincerely.

Leena rolled her eyes at his use of slang. “Biters” being a derogatory term to the patients.

“That’s why I have to go” she brushed him off not unkindly “It’s the biggest violation of human rights in the state. We have to help these people.” she argued before checking the time on her cellphone. “Y/N, we have to go now if we wanna get there in time for the protest, are you coming?” she asked hopefully.

She didn’t want to go alone, but she would go with or without you. You hesitated. You didn’t want to go; you didn’t want her to go. But you knew she would and what if she needed someone to help her stay out of trouble when the police came to break it up? Joshua grabbed your hand in slight anxiety trying to anchor you there, safe at school. Your roommate didn’t seem to notice as she shifted her weight from one foot to another waiting for your answer.

“Not today” you told her apologetically.

She didn’t take offense, “No worries, I’ll catch you later then!” She waved before dashing to the stairwell, her small blue backpack bouncing against her back.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t like those protests. They worry me.” Joshua confided in you once you reached the door to your room.

“You and my parents both” you laughed to put your friend at ease, “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on going anyways, I have special plans that couldn’t be rescheduled.”

“And those are?” He asked sensing your joking tone.

“Eating, binge watching netflix and sleeping.” you listed off in fake seriousness.

“Oh very important stuff then.” Joshua concluded “Mind if I join you for the first two activities?”

“Of course you’re welcome!” you exclaimed “but you gotta bring your own snacks.” you tacked the condition onto your invite.

“Alright. Will do. I’ll see you in, 20 minutes then?”

“Yep, come on over in your comfy clothes and bearing gifts of food.” you confirmed with him before unlocking your door. You gave him a quick wave that he returned before slipping through your door.

You took your time putting on some comfy pjs, a simple t shirt and sweatpants. Then you checked around your room to make sure no bras or panties were hanging out in the open. You and Joshua were close, but not that close. Having the room cleaned enough and having set up your laptop for the ultimate netflix experience, you went to wash off the day’s make up-- chances were, you would rub it off by the end of the night anyways. Walking back from the washroom you got out your secret stash of candy and chips. After some digging around you found a couple bags of popcorn and tossed one into the microwave. You settled on the bed letting the smell of buttery heaven surround you as you waited for your netflix buddy.

By the time you were shaking the second bag of popcorn into the bowl you had for you and Joshua to share, you heard a knock at your door.

“Come in!” you said loud enough to be heard.

“You should really lock the door even when you’re here” Joshua reprimanded you with a small smirk. He didn’t want to be bossy, but you knew he meant what he said.

“Okay, okay worrywart. I’ll lock the door more often. Now get over here so we can start our netflix marathon.” you demanded.

Joshua laughed and complied coming over to sit on you bed bouncing slightly.

“So what are we watching?” he asked as you plopped into place next to him a wide spread of snacks scattered around the two of you.

“Oh you know I was thinking ‘Zombeavers’, what do you think?” you hovered the mouse over the cover of the bikini clad girl who had a beaver between her legs.

“Ooh, perfect.” came the too happy, sarcastic reply.

After about 10 minutes of going back and forth on what to watch, you two decided to settle for ‘The Office’. Something that was entertaining but neither of you had a problem giving commentary throughout either. It was maybe 8 episodes into season one and quite possibly 8 boxes of candy that you passed out next to your friend. You slept so well you didn’t remember a single dream.

That was probably why you jumped out of your skin when heard a knock at your door. Joshua also stirred from his sleeping position next to you. You glanced at your computer to see the time was; 8:46 pm. Another knock. Joshua moved his legs so you could slide off the bed. You opened the door to see your hall resident assistant, Justin.

“Hi Y/N, is Leena in there with you too?” he asked peeking over your shoulder.

“No she went out earlier, She’ll probably be out a while longer.” you said.

Noticing the apparent apprehension in the RA’s shoulders, you felt the need to ask, “Why, is everything okay?”

He ignored your question, “After I leave, don’t answer the door for anybody, not even Leena. Do you understand?”

His command had you breaking out in a nervous sweat. What was going on? Why couldn’t you let anyone in? Especially your roommate.

“Both of you stay in your room here until me or the other RA, Samantha, get you. This door must stay closed and locked.”

“But Leena-”

“Don’t worry about Leena right now, we’ll get everything sorted tomorrow. Just stay inside with the doors locked.”

“Alright.” Joshua’s voice came from right behind your shoulder, making you jump slightly.

Looking back at your friend you saw him nod slightly to your RA before he closed the door for you, turning the lock into place. Turning to face him completely you saw a very stone faced Joshua. In fact he almost looked sick. He didn’t have his face mask on, but he wasn’t smiling. How you missed that smile.

“What’s going on Joshua?” you asked, trying to keep your voice from trembling. Something was very not right.

“I think you need to see this.” was all he said as he lead you by the wrist back to your laptop.

He had pulled up some web news site but you honestly couldn’t remember which. What you did remember was the headline.

PROTEST AT CHARITY’S HOSPITAL GONE WRONG: BITERS ESCAPE, ARE YOU SAFE?

Accompanying the article was a plethora of pictures from the protest. All of them depicting a handful at least of patients attacking police and protesters alike. The diseased looked worse than you remember seeing them the first time.

“They look almost…”

“Dead.” Joshua filled in for you. Looking just as grim as you felt.

“Wait, Leena, I need to call her maybe she got out and can still make it here before the lock all the doors-”

“Y/N” Joshua tried to softly interrupt you.

“Or she can find another place to sleep tonight, there’s plenty of hotels around, maybe she can stay there-” “Y/N” he tried again, slightly louder.

“O-o-or maybe she’s found some other friend’s house to stay at for the night already-”

“Y/N” at full volume, Joshua stopped your panicked monologue, “I don’t think” he took a deep breath, “I don’t think she got out.” he finished while pointing at one of the smaller pictures on the screen.

It was blurry, but there was no doubt: the small blue backpack only further confirmed it. That was Leena on the screen being attacked by a biter.

“No. no, no, no, no.” was all you could say hands coming up to cover your mouth. You thought you were going to be sick.

Joshua just wrapped his arms around you and held you. Trying to steady your emotions while swallowing his own mounting fear. At some point you started crying into Joshua’s shirt. He had smelled like soap and light aftershave. Clean. Alive. You don’t know when you stopped ugly sobbing and had resorted to silent constant tears. But it must have been quiet enough for you two to hear another knock on the door.

Both of you were startled. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since Justin had come around telling everyone to stay locked in their rooms. You and Joshua looked at each other begging the question of what to do. Should you ask who was outside?

“Y/NNN” Leena’s voice slurred from outside. You raised half way off the bed before Joshua grabbed your forearm, shaking his head.

“Y/NN come on” Leena whined on the other side of the door. I’m tired and just want to go to bed. The protest was awful. I’m hungry.” she continued to beg from the other side of the door. Both you and Joshua were frozen.

“Really, Y/N, I know you can hear me I just wanna go to bed. I just need to grab a bite before die of starvation.”

You felt Joshua’s hand tighten slightly at her words.

“Y/N come on, open the door!” Leena emphasized her point with a solid kick to the door. “I really will starve if you don’t let me in! I’m so hungry and tired.” She complained angrily.

You waited with bated breath to see what she would do next. Something was definitely wrong with Leena. You were terrified. After a few seconds spent in anxiety filled silenced you heard another knock on the door, and then another, and another. The knocking turned to pounding and then an even louder thumping. Was she actually throwing herself at the door? Joshua guided you towards the back corner of the room, slightly standing in front of you. The noises stopped. Silence ensued. You grabbed the back of Joshua’s t shirt tightly.

Then came the jiggle of the door knob. She had a key. How could you be so stupid? Of course she had a key, she lived here too. And if she had a key, she could get in. Both you and Joshua had forgotten to latch the top safety chain. The doorknob turned. Why did everything seem like it was moving in slow motion, yet you had no power to move?

The door inched open slowly, “Y/N, Why wouldn’t you let me in?” Leena’s voiced slithered saccharinely from the crack of the open doorway. “Did you really want me to die?” the question hung suspended in air. In the silence all you could hear was your own heartbeat. “I’m sooo hungry.” Time started again as Leena burst through the door teetering faster than you expected towards you and Joshua.

Leena was sweating and pale. Her arms reached in front of you to get either of you. It was when she was nearly in front of you that Joshua moved. He dodged to the side narrowly missing your roommate. She didn’t seem to notice as she lunged for you. As much as you wanted to gape at your best friend’s back as he deserted you for your diseased roommate, your attention was snapped to her when she tackled you to the ground, hands pinning your shoulders down; teeth snapping in your face.

Now you and Leena were of similar size, making you think it was possible under normal circumstances for you two to be evenly matched. This was not normal circumstance. Where you had adrenaline, Leena had desperation. You could barely manage to keep her head far enough away from your body to not be bitten. And when she in turn started trying to bite any part of you in reach you started to panic, kicking vigorously from beneath her. You could feel your arms straining against her unyielding force. No words came from her mouth anymore, just guttural growls.

‘How could he leave me?’ You thought in hopelessness as you began to feel your arms fold. You stared into the deranged face of your once good friend and roommate, accepting that it would probably be the last thing you saw. You closed your eyes allowing the last couple tears of your to slip past your eyelashes.

A resounding wet crack made you pop them wide open.

You looked up the see Leena slack jawed, blood dripping from her mouth. Her head misshapen. She collapsed luckily just to the side of your body, face down. Your eyes following the dead weight.

“Y/N!” your gaze snapped to the owner of the voice. “We need to go somewhere else, now.” He said tightly, trying to keep his tone under control. Trying not to scare you, you realize in retrospect. “Now.”

There stood your Joshua holding a broken, bloodied closet bar in both hands. He was breathing as if he had just run a marathon and looked just as scared as you felt. But he was there. You scrambled up to follow him, whatever his plan may be. You wanted to get out of that damned dorm room now. Joshua quickly started to usher you out of the room, hand on your back. But something made your hair stand on end. You looked back. Leena was up and coming for whoever she could get her hands on. Joshua with his back turned was too slow to put up any defense. You were not.

You grabbed the closet bar from his hands and stuck is straight at her. Eyes closed waiting for impact. You felt a heavy jolt, but did not open your eyes until the choking sounds hit your ears. Opening your eyes slowly you saw what you had done. In front of you was an almost dead Leena. Surely on her way out. The bar through the base of her jaw and out the back of her skull. You stared at her eyes as the manic light dithered away and she went completely slack.

You jolted upright in your tent. Another memory turned night terror. You looked around the inside of your small survival tent, trying to even out your breathing. After over a year of traveling and killing off more biters than you could count. That day, that face still haunted you. Would you never forget? No. You knew.

There are certain things you never forget.

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wsmnet · 5 years ago

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Our aim is a deal

The U.K.'s Brexit secretary on Sunday insisted that ministers would follow ministerial code, in response to the question of whether Prime Minister Boris Johnson will break the law and defy parliament by pursuing a no-deal Brexit. The legal question is one that could rock the future of the British government — and one that if violated, could potentially land the prime minister in jail. Asked if the Johnson would defy the law, Stephen Barclay, Secretary of State for Exiting the European Union, refrained from offering a definitive answer, telling CNBC: "Well the ministerial code requires obeying the law … but the key issue is how do we deliver on the democratic results of the British people. This was the biggest vote in our country's history, people want to see this done." Parliament is expected to pass legislation Monday that would require the prime minister to seek an extension to Article 50, the mechanism triggering departure from the EU, to avoid crashing out of the bloc without a deal. A former top prosecutor on Saturday warned that were he to go against the law, Johnson would be in contempt of court and would face the same punishment as any ordinary citizen. Barclay maintained that ministers are bound by ministerial rules, but did not elaborate further, instead focusing on the need for a "creative" approach from the EU to fix the current impasse between London and Brussels. "Let's get this done, but it does require the (EU) Commission not to just to say in public that they will be creative and flexible, it also requires them in private to get into those discussions with us, so we get this deal over the line," he told CNBC's Steve Sedgwick at the Ambrosetti Forum in Cernobbio, Italy on Sunday. Meanwhile on Sunday, U.K. Foreign Secretary Dominic Raab called the Brexit delay bill "lousy" when speaking to Sky News and vowed to check "very carefully what it does and doesn't require." But he insisted the government would not break the law. Three years and two extensions after the U.K. held its referendum, Brexit still remains up in the air. Anti-Brexit demonstrators outside the British Parliament in London. Yui Mok | PA Images | Getty Images Barclay's words come on the heels of the resignation of U.K. Work and Pensions Secretary Amber Rudd, who quit her post late Saturday in protest at Prime Minister Boris Johnson's handling of the country's exit from the EU, calling his actions "an assault on decency and democracy." Johnson's administration has taken four defeating blows over the course of the last week as lawmakers from across parties joined forces to prevent an early snap election and block the possibility of a no-deal Brexit on October 31. The prime minister also lost his majority in parliament this week and sacked 21 members of his party after they backed a plan to prevent the country from leaving the EU without a deal. Johnson is determined to achieve Brexit by the end of October with or without a deal, a move experts say could have devastating economic consequences. Brexit Secretary Stephen Barclay leaves after a cabinet meeting at 10 Downing Street on June 11, 2019 in London, England. Since Theresa May resigned as Prime Minister the final candidates for the Conservative Party leadership race have been confirmed, with 10 running to become the next Prime Minister. Alberto Pezzali/NurPhoto via Getty Images The pound has recently hit its lowest level in three years, and officials in Brussels maintain that they have seen no new plans for a Northern Irish backstop or other fundamental components of an exit deal since Johnson took office. Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbyn seized the opportunity to criticize Johnson's leadership when the administration officially lost its majority on September 3: "This is a government with no mandate, no morals, and, as of today, no majority," he said. Barclay struck back at Corbyn Sunday when speaking to CNBC, calling his position on Brexit "incoherent." "He wants to extend in order to have time for him to negotiate a new deal, which he then says he would campaign against. So just to be clear on that, he wants more time to negotiate a deal that he will then work against," he said. "Which I think is an incoherent position. He's said he would respect the referendum result in his manifesto, now he's gone back on his word." A Labour party spokesperson was not immediately available for comment when contacted by CNBC.

'Absolutely convinced'

Barclay's message echoes that of U.K. Finance Minister Sajid Javid, who earlier on Sunday issued a full-throated defense of his government, saying he was "absolutely convinced" that Westminster could still get a Brexit deal and that the view that the government is not doing enough to get a one "could not be further from the truth." He added that Johnson would attend the EU Summit on October 17 and try to strike a deal, but will not ask for an extension. Businesses in both Europe and the U.K. have struggled to make contingency plans for the latter's departure from the bloc, and the uncertainty has significantly stalled investment decisions. Many international companies are withholding expansions and and charting moves out of the U.K. as uncertainty reigns over the fate of the country and its status in relation to the EU. Lobbying Group Frankfurt Main Finance claimed in a recent report that London's finance industry is poised to lose up to $900 billion by March 2019, while consulting firm EY found that financial services firms plan to move $1 trillion in assets out of the U.K. The figure is small, however, when compared to the U.K.'s overall financial sector, EY noted. Britain's banking sector alone is thought to be at almost $11 trillion, though experts say this could change depending on what happens during and after October. British firms have diverted $10 billion of investment to the EU due to Brexit, a report from the London School of Economics revealed earlier this year. EU businesses have cut their spending in Britain, leading to losses for the U.K. of more than $13 billion, and the report said that figure may rise. One study found that EU exports to Britain could halve in the event of a no-deal Brexit. Still, a number of global firms continue to show confidence in the U.K., with major investments for new offices and headquarters coming into London from the likes of Apple, Google and Facebook. Read the full article

#AsiaEconomy #BorisJohnson #Brexit #businessnews #EuropeNews #EuropeanUnion #Politics #trade #UnitedKingdom

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newstfionline · 4 years ago

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Friday, November 6, 2020

Biden sees path to 270; Trump attacks election integrity (AP) With his pathway to re-election appearing to shrink, President Trump on Thursday advanced unsupported accusations of voter fraud to falsely argue that his rival was trying to seize power. “This is a case when they are trying to steal an election, they are trying to rig an election,” Trump said from the podium of the White House briefing room. The president’s remarks deepened a sense of anxiety in the U.S. as Americans enter their third full day after the election without knowing who would serve as president for the next four years. Neither candidate has reached the 270 Electoral College votes needed to win the White House. But Biden eclipsed Trump in Wisconsin and Michigan, two crucial Midwestern battleground states, and was inching closer to overtaking the president in Pennsylvania and Georgia, where votes were still be counted. It was unclear when a national winner would be determined after a long, bitter campaign dominated by the coronavirus and its effects on Americans and the national economy.

Win or Lose, Trump Will Remain a Powerful and Disruptive Force (NYT) If President Trump loses his bid for re-election, as looked increasingly likely on Wednesday, it would be the first defeat of an incumbent president in 28 years. But one thing seemed certain: Win or lose, he will not go quietly away. At the very least, he has 76 days left in office to use his power as he sees fit and to seek revenge on some of his perceived adversaries. Angry at a defeat, he may fire or sideline a variety of senior officials who failed to carry out his wishes as he saw it. And if he is forced to vacate the White House on Jan. 20, Mr. Trump is likely to prove more resilient than expected and almost surely will remain a powerful and disruptive force in American life. He received at least 68 million votes, or five million more than he did in 2016, and commanded about 48 percent of the popular vote, meaning he retained the support of nearly half of the public despite four years of scandal, setbacks, impeachment and the brutal coronavirus outbreak that has killed more than 233,000 Americans. That gives him a power base to play a role that other defeated one-term presidents like Jimmy Carter and George Bush have not played. Even if his own days as a candidate are over, his 88-million-strong Twitter following gives him a bullhorn to be an influential voice on the right.

‘The whole world waits’ with unease as drawn-out, contested election batters America’s global image (Washington Post) As the world reckoned with another day of uncertainty over the result of the U.S. presidential election, Trump’s premature victory claim, unsubstantiated allegations of voter fraud and the threat of legal challenges continued to overshadow the drawn-out vote count, from which no clear winner has emerged. The indecision was met with deep unease around the globe over what lies ahead for the U.S. political process—and more than a little glee from America’s traditional adversaries. In Canada, lawmakers have been relatively silent on the aftermath of the vote, but election coverage continued to dominate the country’s largest newspapers, to the point that they nearly resembled U.S. dailies. The Toronto Star described a “nagging, palpable sense of dread” that no matter who prevails, Canada has never felt “so far apart” from its southern neighbor. “America has represented optimism, looking forward and ideas,” said Tatsuhiko Yoshizaki, chief economist at the Sojitz Research Institute in Tokyo. “And yet, over the past four years, we have come to see the dark side in the United States.” The same sentiment was echoed in Europe on Thursday, where Germany’s left-leaning Der Spiegel newsweekly compared Trump to a “late Roman emperor” who has “set a historic standard for voter contempt.” In Britain, some commentators responded with disgust—with the left-leaning Daily Mirror calling Trump “a liar and a cheat until the bitter end”—while other papers turned to humor, especially over the slow pace of the vote count. The front page of the Metro newspaper read: “Make America Wait Again.” In China, a number of publications used the election to highlight shortcomings of the American system. Still, China’s vice foreign minister, Le Yucheng, voiced hopes on Thursday about repairing bilateral relations after the election. “I hope the new U.S. administration will meet China halfway,” he said, according to CNBC.

US sets record for cases amid election battle (AP) New confirmed cases of the coronavirus in the U.S. have climbed to an all-time high of more than 86,000 per day on average, in a glimpse of the worsening crisis that lies ahead for the winner of the presidential election. Cases and hospitalizations are setting records all around the country just as the holidays and winter approach, demonstrating the challenge that either President Donald Trump or former Vice President Joe Biden will face in the coming months. The total U.S. death toll is already more than 232,000, and total confirmed U.S. cases have surpassed 9 million. Those are the highest totals in the world, and new infections are increasing in nearly every state.

Riot declared in Portland as protesters smash windows (AP) A riot was declared in Portland, Oregon, and protesters took to the streets in Seattle on Wednesday as people demanded that every vote in Tuesday’s election be counted. Hundreds were protesting in both cities against President Donald Trump’s court challenges to stop the vote count in battleground states. The Multnomah County Sheriff’s Office at about 7 p.m. declared a riot after protesters were seen smashing windows at businesses. In the interest of public safety, Gov. Kate Brown activated the use of the state National Guard to help local law enforcement manage the unrest, according to the sheriff’s office. Portland has been roiled by five months of near-nightly racial injustice protests since the police killing of George Floyd.

Tired of blue state life, rural Oregon voters eye new border (AFP) As a hotly contested election highlights the United States’s deep divisions, rural voters in liberal blue-state Oregon have approved a radical solution—splitting off to join neighboring deep-red conservative Idaho. Two conservative counties voted in favor of a non-binding measure to “Move Oregon’s Borders” during Tuesday’s polls, which also saw their northwestern US state predictably vote for Joe Biden in the race for president. “In the United States, the differences between liberal and conservative... there’s hatred there,” said chief petitioner Mike McCarter, of the votes in Union and Jefferson counties. “Populated urban areas are controlling the mass of everybody,” the 73-year-old retired gun club manager told AFP. Oregon—whose politics are dominated by the liberal city of Portland—has not voted Republican in a presidential contest since 1984, while landlocked Idaho to the east last chose a Democrat in 1964. But the high desert and mountainous swathes of eastern Oregon—where resource-intensive industries such as timber, ranching and mining prevail—are far more conservative than the environment-minded coastal stretches of the state. McCarthy said his movement’s goals rings true for outnumbered rural conservatives across a nation in which most states apportion their electoral college votes—to choose the president—on an all-or-nothing basis. “It’s a definite clash between blue and red,” he said. “Indiana and Illinois have got the same issue because Chicago controls all Illinois. In New York (state), New York City controls all New York. There’s a constant rub going back-and forth on life values between urban and rural.”

Eta brings heavy rains, deadly mudslides to Honduras (AP) Eta moved into Honduras on Wednesday as a weakened tropical depression but still bringing the heavy rains that have drenched and caused deadly landslides in the country’s east and in northern Nicaragua. The storm no longer carried the winds of the Category 4 hurricane that battered Nicaragua’s coast Tuesday, but it was moving so slowly and dumping so much rain that much of Central America was on high alert. Eta had sustained winds of 35 mph (55 kph) and was moving west-northwest at 7 mph (11 kph) Wednesday night. It was 115 miles (185 kilometers) south-southeast of La Ceiba. The long-term forecast shows Eta taking a turn over Central America and then reforming as a tropical storm in the Caribbean—possibly reaching Cuba on Sunday and southern Florida on Monday.

Arce’s opponents go on strike in Bolivia (Foreign Policy) Conservative opponents of Bolivian President-elect Luis Arce will begin a two-day strike today in the department of Santa Cruz, home to Bolivia’s largest city, in order to voice their opposition to the results of October’s presidential election. Governor Ruben Costas has asked Bolivia’s electoral tribunal to audit the result, but the tribunal rejected the request, citing the election’s certification by outside groups such as the Organization of American States (OAS). Arce is set to be inaugurated as president on Sunday.

Pix (Rest of World) Brazil’s Central Bank will launch a national instant payment system called Pix, which will be free to use by its citizens and mandatory for major banks to implement. It’s required for the 34 banks with 500,000 clients or more to roll out, and that group serves 90 percent of the 175.4 million Brazilians with bank accounts. As a result, this change could revolutionize digital payments in the country. Right now, fast money transfers cost 10 Brazilian reais in fees, or about $2. Pix will be effectively free for consumers: the Central Bank charges banks 1 Brazilian centavo, or $0.0018, for every 10 transactions. The five largest banks in Brazil make $440 million a year from same-day money transfer fees. The free price point of Pix will likely undercut their offerings.

In Spain, coronavirus puts the poor at the back of the line MADRID (AP)—Erika Oliva spends at least three hours a week standing in line at a soup kitchen. She spends a couple more at the social worker’s office with her 8-year-old son, who has autism. She waits on the phone to the health center or when she wants to check if her application for a basic income program will get her the promised 1,015 euros ($1,188). So far, it hasn’t. “They are always asking for more papers but we still haven’t seen a euro. Everything seems to be closed because of the pandemic. Or you are told to go online,” said Oliva. She managed to apply online, but others in her situation don’t know how to use a computer or simply don’t have one. “Poor people queue. It’s what we know how to do best,” Oliva said. Lower income families around the world have often suffered most from the pandemic for several reasons: their jobs might expose them more to the virus and their savings are typically lower. In Spain, their situation has been worse than in much of Europe due to the big role of hard-hit industries like tourism and weaker social welfare benefits. “The pandemic is extending and intensifying poverty in a country that already had serious inequality problems,” said Carlos Susías, president of the European Anti-Poverty Network, which encompasses dozens of non-profits. He says insufficient welfare spending, too much red tape, lack of access to technology and a resurgence of the pandemic are likely to widen what is already one of the developed world’s biggest gaps between rich and poor.

Pope Francis: A Day Without Prayer Is ‘Bothersome,’ ‘Tedious’ (Breitbart) Pope Francis insisted Wednesday on the centrality of prayer in a Christian’s life, declaring that prayer has a way of turning all things to good. Prayer “possesses primacy: it is the first desire of the day, something that is practised at dawn, before the world awakens,” the pope proposed in his weekly general audience in the Vatican. “It restores a soul to that which otherwise would be without breath.” “A day lived without prayer risks being transformed into a bothersome or tedious experience” where “all that happens to us could turn into a badly endured and blind fate.” Through prayer, the many occurrences of every day—both good and bad—take on new meaning, the pontiff suggested. “Prayer is primarily listening and encountering God,” he said. “The problems of everyday life, then, do not become obstacles, but appeals from God Himself to listen to and encounter those who are in front of us.” “Consistent prayer produces progressive transformation, makes us strong in times of tribulation, gives us the grace to be supported by Him who loves us and always protects us,” he said.

Greece orders nationwide lockdown to curb COVID surge (Reuters) Greece ordered a nationwide lockdown on Thursday for three weeks to help contain a resurgence of COVID-19 cases. Under the new countrywide restrictions to take effect from Saturday, retail businesses will be shut with the exception of supermarkets and pharmacies. Civilians will need a time-slot permit to venture outdoors. Primary schools will stay open, but high schools will shut.

Debt trap? (Nikkei Asian Review) China has lent large amounts of money to many developing countries, and critics contend—though China disputes—that this is in pursuit of “debt-trap diplomacy,” where a powerful country offers money to a less powerful one, and when the less powerful one defaults, the powerful country will take important resources like ports, natural resources, or infrastructure. China’s loans typically have interest rates of 3 percent or more, compared to International Monetary Fund and World Bank loans where the interest is about 1 percent. Critics point to the China-Sri Lanka relationship—where Sri Lanka signed a 99-year lease on the port of Hambantota in 2017—as a key example, and there are others. Regardless of the broader motivations, lots of African nations are in the hole to China, and the pandemic has exacerbated default risks. Zambia—home to voluminous copper reserves—is a particularly interesting case, as the country owes $12 billion in total, of which $3.4 billion, or 29 percent of its external debt, is to China, up 8 percentage points from four years ago.

China blocks travellers from virus-hit Britain, Belgium, Philippines (Reuters) Mainland China has barred entry to non-Chinese visitors from Britain, Belgium and the Philippines and demanded travellers from the United States, France and Germany present results of additional health tests, as coronavirus cases rise around the world. China has temporarily suspended entry of non-Chinese nationals travelling from the United Kingdom even if they hold valid visas and residence permits, the Chinese embassy in Britain said, in some of the most stringent border restrictions imposed by any country in response to the pandemic. Starting Nov. 6, all passengers from the United States, France, Germany and Thailand bound for mainland China must take both a nucleic acid test and a blood test for antibodies against the coronavirus. The tests must be done no more than 48 hours before boarding.

Japan’s expensive oranges (CNN) How many mandarin oranges can you buy with one million yen—or roughly $9,600? For one fruit-loving buyer at an auction this week in Japan, the answer is just 100. A single, 20-kilogram crate of 100 Japanese mandarins (also called mikan) hit the auction block on Thursday at Tokyo’s central wholesale Ota Market. It was the year’s first auction of satsuma mandarin oranges, a famous citrus species from Ehime prefecture, on the island of Shikoku in southern Japan. Nishiuwa is one of Ehime’s mikan-producing regions and its semi-seedless citrus species of oranges is known for its good balance of rich and sweet flavors, its easy-to-peel thin skin as well as its melt-in-the-mouth texture. It wasn’t the first time the sweet mandarins fetched such a staggering price in an auction—the highest bidding price last year was also in the million range.

West Bank village razed (Foreign Policy) Israeli forces have demolished a Palestinian village in the West Bank, leaving 73 people homeless, in what the United Nations reported as the largest demolition operation in years. The demolition brings to 689 the number of structures demolished across the West Bank, the highest number since 2016. The Israeli human rights group B’Tselem said the mass demolition was likely an opportunistic move by the Israeli government while the eyes of the world were focused on the U.S. election.

#headlines #news

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leftpress · 8 years ago

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Anti-Fascist Sports, Autonomen, and PhDs: An Interview with Gabriel Kuhn

thecollective | anarchistnews.org | March 3rd 2017

From Freedom

Published March 2, 2017

Gabriel Kuhn has been writing political books from the late ’90s on topics ranging from women pirates to football and the State. In this interview Freedom reviewer Luther Blisset talks to him about the Autonomen, workers’ councils and the history of anti-fascism in sport.

LB: You graduated with a PhD at a young age, at least for the US. Did you know that you wanted to do philosophy for a long time? How did you get interested in philosophy and radical politics? And why go for a PhD instead of just an undergraduate degree?

GK: I knew that I wanted to study philosophy already in high...

school. It was simply a fascination with questions that seemed central to our existence: is there a God or not? What is good and what is evil? What is the meaning of life? Why does something exist and not nothing?

The interest in politics developed a little later, but it quickly became very strong and, inevitably, influenced my take on philosophy. Political philosophy and ethics became the fields I was mostly interested in. During the early 1990s, when I did my studies, there was a bit of an upheaval in the humanities, at least in Europe. For many, the fall of the Soviet Union had discredited Marxism, which was still the leading ideology among left-wing academics. Interest in poststructuralist leftists — such as Michel Foucault, Jean-François Lyotard, Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari — soared. I remember the period as exciting, even though much of poststructuralist-inspired work today has degenerated into nonsensical gibberish.

The reason I did a PhD was because it was an easy thing to do in Austria. It didn’t cost you anything (university education was free and still is for the most part) and I hardly had to do any courses. All I needed to do — so to speak — was to write a thesis, which wasn’t a big sacrifice since I always enjoyed writing. That’s why I saw the project through, although I had no interest in an academic career. I’ve never had a job in academia.

LB: I remember reading that you were involved with the Autonomen for several years. How would you describe your activities? Demos? Publishing? Outreach? Could you share several of the lessons you learned from the experience?

GK: The autonomous milieu was pretty much where all radical leftists in the German-speaking world found themselves in if they didn’t want to be involved in party politics. It was very diverse and ideologically quite open. For some years, I was part of a collective in a smaller Austrian town that contributed to and distributed the country’s biggest autonomous newspaper; I guess in more modern language you’d call it an affinity group. We also went to demonstrations together and were involved in different protests — against the first Gulf War, the rise of the FPÖ (a right-wing party, today one of the country’s biggest), real estate speculation, Austria joining the European Union (at the time, opposition to the EU was a mainly leftist issue — today, it has been taken over by the nationalists). We also were involved in starting a pirate radio station, which opened the path for legal non-commercial radio projects that still exist. In 1994, I left Austria and I can’t really claim that I have been active in the German-speaking autonomous movement since, although I’ve always been following the developments and discussions and it’s still the milieu I move in when I go visit. A few years ago, I was involved in a German publishing project that tried to reevaluate the autonomous movement in the new century.

What did I learn from those experiences? Interesting question, I have never given that much thought. Obviously, it introduced me to autonomous organising, for better or worse. I learned about militant protest and direct action, security and legal issues, the publishing and distributing of literature, the dynamics of radical collectives, and about building broader alliances or at least trying to. Plus, there were many debates about goals, strategies, and tactics. I think I mainly gathered impressions for a few years and had in no way reached any particular conclusion when I left the country to travel and then live abroad. I guess what I took me with me was the feeling that you can have an impact even as a small group, as long as you’re connected to a broader movement through regular discussion and common action. If that connection is lost, however — as I feel is increasingly the case for radical collectives, at least in Western and Northern Europe — it’s easy to fit the image of an isolated social club with radical pretensions.

LB: Given your background, reading, and networks, have you seen any phenomenon or organising in the US that resembles any of the iterations of the European Autonomen? If so, could you elaborate or discuss a bit?

GK: I think that the anarchist subculture I experienced studying and travelling in the U.S. between 1994 and 2005 in many ways resembled that of the Autonomen. This concerned everything from what people wore to what they ate to the music they listened to and to the way their homes and social centres looked. All of that was very familiar. And despite certain differences in focus, the main political topics were also the same: gender, racism, anti-capitalism, and so on. Add to that the shared enthusiasm for direct action, Black Blocs, and related forms of protest and you have very similar scenes.

The strongest differences probably concerned ideology. The Autonomen were still fairly influenced by Marxism — even if it was a Marxism of the “left communist” or “operaist” variety — and I didn’t see much of that in the U.S. I hate to employ overused stereotypes, but I felt there were fairly strong anti-intellectual strains in the radical circles I encountered there. All of this might have changed, however. I haven’t been able to travel to the country since 2005 due to immigration issues.

LB: You edited a book of key source documents on Workers Councils. How did you first run into the material? And how did you decide which documents to translate into English — that must have been incredibly hard! I’m very curious about what relevance you see in getting these documents published. What have you specifically learned from working with this body of documents?

GK: The book came about in roundabout ways. Originally, I was interested in the role of the anarchists Gustav Landauer and Erich Mühsam in the Bavarian Council Republic, which existed for a couple of months in the spring of 1919. Mühsam had written a personal account of the period, and an American friend, who wanted to publish it as a pamphlet, had asked me to translate it. The pamphlet never appeared, but talking about the project with other English-speaking friends, it seemed there was a more general interest in the German Revolution of 1918–1919, especially in the radical, that is, the anarchist, syndicalist, and communist currents. The folks at PM Press were among those I talked to, and this is how the book was conceived.

The material wasn’t difficult to find. The period is well covered in German literature. I chose the texts for the English edition according to their overall importance and to how representative they were for the currents I wanted to focus on. Of course I wanted to include the most influential texts, but I also wanted to tell a story. Anthologies — in particular academic ones — all too often consist of individual texts that might be of great quality but are only loosely connected; it can be hard to identify a thread that runs through them all. For me, it seemed important to tie the individual parts together and create a narrative. So that’s what I tried to do.

As far as the relevance of publishing historical material is concerned, there is a standard answer: we need to learn from history to make the future better. More specifically in this case, the question of revolution remains unresolved. Fortunately enough, there are still a lot of people who want a socialist society; but few of us know how to even begin the discussion about how to get there. Looking at earlier attempts seems like a good starting point.

LB: How many languages are you able to translate with/across?

GK: Basically, I translate between German, English, and Swedish, although the translations into Swedish require more time and editorial help. I can also translate from French (albeit slowly) and — by default, as they are so close to Swedish — from Danish and Norwegian. I cannot translate into those languages, my active command of them is simply too poor.

I enjoy translating. It’s like writing, only that you can fully focus on the technical aspects of it, since someone else already has done the thinking for you. If you like writing and have an interest in language, it’s a great thing to do.

LB: When I saw your work about sports and anti-fascism, I was a bit surprised, honestly. Normally, in the US, sports is run by and with nationalism. Often other ugly forms of chauvinism appear. Anti-fascist sports strikes me in many ways like anti-racist or communist skinheads: a rare exception or novel idea. What motivated you to work on and write about this? How has the work been received? Do you play sports yourself?

GK: I play a lot of sports and have always done so. Next to family and politics (which includes the work I do), sport is the most important part of my everyday life. This is also what motivates me to write about it.

Of course you are right, there is plenty of ugliness in sports, especially in the professionalised and commercialised varieties: competition, chauvinism, exploitation, unhealthy body norms, you name it. But sport is not only a big part of my life, it’s a big part of many people’s lives, and it won’t go anywhere in a liberated society, and neither should it, because there is plenty of beauty in it as well.

Essentially, sport is the combination of physical activity and play, which are both essential for our well-being. If the environment is right, sports can be great fun, they bring people together, and they teach us social values. The challenge for radicals is to create an environment that brings out the best in sports instead of the worst.

It is true that good examples are not always easy to find, but they exist: from the workers’ sports movement of the early twentieth century to sport’s role in the civil rights struggles of the 1960s to antifascist organising among sports fans today. Sport has tremendous political significance and th

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